Change for you
by The Lost Kid
Summary: “Draco!” she practically shrieked, her panic-stricken face snapping up to his face her blue eyes wide as saucers. “Draco! Oh gods no! Run! RUN!” she screamed at him. “Mother, why? What’s going on? What’s hap-!” “Stupefy!” cried a gruff voice.
1. Chapter 1: Destiny

_This is yet another prequel for my DarkSpawn series, set in Harry's seventh year, and for this story to exist I've altered certain events from Half-Blood Prince (such as Draco joining Voldemort, Snape's unbreakable vow with Narcissa, and Dumbledore's death) and obviously Deathly Hallows can never _**ever**_ take place. But if you're interested in the redemption of Draco Malfoy then this story should interest you. I'm not sure if I can fit the three hallows in this story but I will certainly try. So come with yet again into my alternate HP universe._

**Disclaimer: **Obviously I do not own these characters, they belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner brothers

**Thursday 26****th**** of June 1997**

**11:48pm **

"No! You can't do this!" screamed a distraught voice desperately.

"We can Cissy, and we _will!_" snarled another voice. "Its time he took his father's place!"

With a loud bang a bedroom door was thrown open and the young man sprawled on the large four-poster bed jerked awake and stared blearily at the three silhouettes standing in the doorway.

"No, _please!_ He's just a boy!" cried Narcissa Malfoy, her voice frantic.

"Not anymore, he isn't!" sneered Bellatrix.

"Mother?" said Draco, squinting at the dark figures in the doorway, his mind muddled with sleep.

The figures in the doorway, three men, converged on Draco suddenly and hauled him out of his warm bed; as he was wearing only a pair of thin pyjama bottoms the cool night air caused the flesh on his chest and arms to burst out in goose-bumps. Although half asleep and thoroughly confused, Draco vaguely registered that two of the men now dragging and shoving him out of his bedroom were in fact his uncles: Rabastan and Rudolphus Lestrange. He slammed his eyes shut as he was thrust into the brightly light hallway, only to have them fly open again when he heard his mother's voice.

"Please Bella! My son! _My only son!_" she sobbed, struggling against Bellatrix's iron grip that held her arms pinned against her back.

"Mother!" cried Draco, the full seriousness of the situation finally dawning on him.

"_Draco!_" she practically shrieked, her panic-stricken face snapping up to his face her blue eyes wide as saucers. "Draco! Oh gods no! Run! _RUN!_" she screamed at him.

"Mother, why? What's going on? What's hap-?!"

"_Stupefy!_" cried a gruff voice behind Draco.

A bolt of red light streaked past the teenager and hit his mother squarely in the chest. She gave a gasp and crumbled forward in Bellatrix's arms.

"NO!" roared Draco, straining against the bruising grip his uncles held him in. "Mother!"

"You idiot!" shrieked Bellatrix furiously. "How dare you raise your wand against my -!"

"Enough Bella!" growled Rudolphus. "We don't have time for this. Deal with your sister and meet us in the travelling room!"

"Fine!" she snapped, her eyes flashing with fury.

"No! Let go of me! _Let go!_ Mother, mother!" yelled Draco, fighting fruitlessly against his uncles who dragged him easily past his mother's unconscious form toward the grand staircase of Malfoy manor. The travelling room was the only place in the manor where one could disapparate from and apparate in; it was also equipped with an enormous fireplace for flooing.

"Where are you taking me!" he demanded, as he tripped and stumbled down the stairs, trying once again to throw off his uncles' crushing grip.

"To the Dark lord, you _stupid_ boy!" snapped the gruff voiced wizard, the same one who had attacked Narcissa.

Draco forgot how to breathe. He stopped fighting his uncles and let them drag his numb body toward the travelling room; toward his doom. It felt as if his insides had been plunged into ice, freezing his heart and lungs in place. Of course Draco had always known this was coming, it was his destiny, one that had been chosen for him before he'd even been born. For years he had wanted this - relished in the idea of following his father's footsteps, of doing something that would finally make Lucius proud of him - but things were different now, _he_ was different. Draco didn't want this; he didn't want to be a Death-eater, he didn't want the Dark Mark, he didn't want to be a killer. Somehow he'd deluded himself into thinking that he still had time; that somehow his mother - who'd always been against the idea - would be able to protect him, or that maybe Voldemort would wait until he finished school, or that maybe just maybe Potter would defeat Him before Draco ever had to take the Mark. But it was too late now, Draco was out of time. Like it or not they would force the Mark on him, and make him into a Death-eater; into a monster.

"No!" he whispered, too quietly for anyone to hear.

As Rabastan kicked open the door to the travelling room Draco snapped out of his fear-induced stupor and dug his heels into the floor, once again fighting in vain against his uncles.

"NOOOO! I won't go! I won't go to _Him!_ Never, never! Unhand me!" he screamed, hating himself for the fear he heard in his voice.

SMACK!

Draco's head snapped to the side, his jaw bouncing off his bare shoulder as his right cheek burned white-hot from the force of the slap his aunt had just delivered. He hadn't even heard her come up behind them. Stunned, Draco looked up at the furious and slightly deranged face of his aunt.

"You will do as you are told, you pathetic, _snivelling_ little worm!" screeched Bellatrix, jabbing a long, clawed finger into Draco's chest. "Tonight, you will kneel before the Dark lord with your head held high and take his Mark and wear it with pride! Tonight you will bring honour to your family and undo the shame _your father_ brought up-!"

"Don't you_ dare_, mention my father, you fucking bitch!" bellowed Draco angrily. "Gmph!" he grunted as something like a rock - but was in fact his uncle's fist - struck the back of his head and sent him crashing painfully to his knees. With his cheek on fire, his skull throbbing and his knees aching, Draco hissed as his head was yanked up and back by the roots of his white-blonde hair until his spine was curved backwards into a painful position.

"You watch that tongue of yours, boy" Rudolphus growled menacingly into Draco's ear, pressing the tip of his wand into the teenager's throat. "Or I'll be forced to hex _something_ off to ensure you behave" he added with a small chuckle, removing the wand from Draco's throat and tapping it near his groin instead.

"Argh!" cried Draco, as Rudolphus hauled him to his feet by his hair.

He must have been hit pretty hard because Draco's body lurched forward and he might have fallen had his uncles not been holding him up so forcefully by his upper arms. His head was spinning both from the blow to his skull and his steadily growing horror of what was about to happen to him. They dragged him into the centre of the room and with one last seething glare in his direction Bellatrix disapparated with a small pop. The gruff voiced wizard followed her lead, then Rabastan who had released Draco's arm. Finally it was Rudolphus' turn. He tightened his grip on Draco's arm - leering at him when Draco winced - and twisted his body to the side. All at once Draco found himself swallowed by darkness, with pressure on all sides of his body squeezing him through a long narrow tunnel. He didn't like apparation at the best of times, but given the nature of his destination, the horrible claustrophobic feeling of this method of travelling was almost too much for Draco to bear; all he wanted to do was scream. As he had his eyes screwed tightly shut Draco didn't realise that they had reached their destination until his uncle dragged him forward.

An icy chill swept over Draco and he shivered. He opened his eyes. He was surrounded on all sides by vast trees and for a heart-stopping moment Draco thought he had been brought to the Forbidden-forest (a place he'd hoped never to return to), but then his eyes fell on his aunt who was striding toward the ruins of some castle or large house that rose out of the leaf litter several yards away and he knew that this couldn't be the Forbidden-forest. According to _Hogwarts: A History_: there were no man-made structures within the forest - and Draco was willing to bet his entire fortune on the accuracy of that particular tome. The moon was out tonight and the pearly light that filtered down through the canopy made the forest look eerie, like a scene from a horror story, which Draco supposed this was: his own personal horror story. Rabastan had taken hold of Draco's other arm once again and as he and his brother towed Draco toward the crumbling, moss-covered stones of the ruined building Draco began to make out shapes moving beyond the decaying walls. _No, not just shapes_ thought Draco anxiously _figures! Death-eaters!_

Draco felt his pulse accelerate, and there must be something wrong with his lungs because no matter how deeply he breathed he couldn't seem to fill them completely with oxygen. Somewhere amongst those dark figures lurked the most evil wizard of modern times. Draco's brain screamed at him to fight off the hands restraining him and make a run for it, but the signal seemed to get lost on the way to his body and all Draco could do was stumble along with his uncles; petrified out of his wits. As they reached the ruins Draco's heart began to flutter like a frightened bird in a cage. The gathered Death-eaters parted to form a path for the newcomers and Draco could feel their cold eyes leering at him from behind their masks as if it were a physical touch. He cast his own eyes around the area, trying to ignore the hooded figures on either side of him, searching for the one person that frightened him most of all. Numbly he registered the ruins were in fact those of a medieval church; three of the four walls stood mostly intact and moonlight streamed through the empty arched windows. He groaned as Rabastan suddenly applied pressure to the back of his neck, forcing Draco to his knees. Releasing his arms Rudolphus and Rabastan stepped away from him, moving to stand with the other Death-eaters. Another shiver wracked Draco's frame and he hugged his aching arms to his body. His head was bowed in submission and his eyes fixed to the ground.

The forest was unnaturally still, it was almost like the animals had been frightened into silence; not even the wind was brave enough to stir the treetops. Draco's heart pounded in his ears. He was convinced it was loud enough for everyone gathered to hear. Then a new sound caught Draco's attention, a soft rustling: not the rustling of trees being blown in a light breeze but that of a cloak being dragged over dried leaves. The hem of someone's robes appeared in Draco's line of vision. He tried to resist the urge to look up but he couldn't help himself. Slowly, very slowly he lifted his grey eyes until they fell upon the cold, malevolent face of Lord Voldemort, the sight made the young Slytherin shudder with a mixture of fear and revulsion. He stood very close, giving the impression that he towered high above the seventeen year old; making Draco feel very small indeed.

"Young Master Malfoy," said Voldemort softly. "How good of you to join us."

Quick as a flash Voldemort reached down and caught Draco's chin between his long white fingers and began to examine the boy's face with his bright scarlet eyes.

"Your father has told me so much about you, Draco, I feel like I already know you. The resemblance between you and Lucius is uncanny" hissed Voldemort, tilting Draco's chin further back and causing him to wince at the uncomfortable position. "Your father has been dreaming of this moment since you were born ... a pity then, that he can't be here to witness it" he smirked then and released the blonde's face, Draco dropped his gaze to the ground again and fought the shudder trembling at the top of his spine.

"If I'd had my way," he continued in a louder voice "you would have joined our family last year, after your father's incarceration ..." mentally kicking himself, Draco looked up "but your mother insisted that I wait until you were of age.

"Which reminds me, where is Narcissa? Surely she wouldn't miss this for the world" scarlet eyes looked expectantly at Bellatrix.

"She ... w-was unable to attend, my lord" explained Bellatrix meekly.

"Resisted? Did she?" Voldemort drawled, a sly grin curling his lipless mouth. His gleaming eyes fell on Draco again. "Such a shame," he said, clicking his tongue in mock regret. "Now neither of your parents shall witness you embrace your destiny. What a pity."

With his eyes fixed on Draco's pale hair Voldemort began to circle the teenager, like a giant, malicious vulture. This time Draco was unable to fend off the shudder of fear that shook his chilled half-naked body, the involuntary action raising several scathing jeers from the 'audience'. Trying to concentrate on anything but the sound of Voldemort's footsteps whispering across the ground Draco lifted his eyes and scanned the masked and hooded onlookers, wondering if his Godfather and potions Professor was among them somewhere. _I wish this was just a nightmare_, he thought miserably, closing his eyes. _I wish I could just open my eyes, and all _this_ would just disappear. Damn you father! Why is this, the only thing that will make you _proud_ of me?!_ He opened his eyes, which were now shining with angry un-shed tears.

"I'm sure you're all too eager to get on with the Marking ceremony, my dear boy," said Voldemort suddenly, startling Draco. "But ... before we proceed, I must be certain of your ... character ..."

Draco didn't like the smile he could hear in Voldemort's voice. Nor did he like the excited buzz that rippled through the Death-eaters a second later. It filled him with foreboding. Having circled the young Malfoy twice already the Dark lord stopped in Draco's line of vision yet again; this time however, the seventeen year old kept his gaze firmly fixed on the dark wizard's robes.

"I need to know what kind of man you are - or in your case - will be. For example, are you strong enough? To handle the kinds of missions I am likely to hand out to you?" Draco was hit with a rush of nausea and felt his body sway ever so slightly (he didn't want to think about what kinds of horrific 'missions' the evil bastard would assign him). "Can I trust you? Will you be a loyal Death-eater? Like your father says you will?"

He paused a moment, an unpleasant smile twisting his face, before continuing in an amused tone. "Can you endure ... pain?"

Draco's eyes flew upwards just in time to see a wand aimed at him. With a strangled scream he lurched to his side; every nerve in his body blazing like a burning sun. He writhed on the ground for several minutes, trying in vain to contain the screams being ripped from his throat. A moment later the pain vanished leaving him panting and drenched in a cold sweat. He could hear Voldemort and his followers laughing. Is this what Lucius Malfoy had wanted for his son? To be tortured and humiliated for the sake of redeeming the family name? _Damn my name!_ Thought Draco furiously. _And damn my father! I will NOT follow in his footsteps, I will NOT play underling to this piece of filth - I'd rather die!_

"You will indulge us in a little fun, child" chuckled the Dark lord. "It was just a little test on your stamina, and you handled it better than I thought" he sounded almost annoyed at this. "Unfortunately," he continued in a sinister tone of voice "it does not answer all my questions. Get up! Hurry up now, on your knees ... that's it. Now, look at me."

Draco knew what he was planning and hastily threw up a mental block before raising his eyes to meet the gleaming red gaze of Voldemort. The mental invasion came as a sharp, painful nudge at Draco's temples - a feeling he was familiar with - and able to resist. Draco stared back defiantly at the snake like face while Voldemort continued in vain to penetrate his mind. He gritted his teeth against the pain and increased pressure at his temples. When he felt Voldemort gain the upper hand for a moment something unexpected happened. In Draco's head appeared a vision, that of a face; a face he knew very well indeed. There in his mind, clear as crystal, were a set of large dark brown eyes, a frenzy of untamed curls, and a smile capable of stealing his breath away. The face belonged to Hermione Granger, his nemesis, and the girl he'd secretly been fantasizing about since first year. He'd been in denial about his feelings since second year, and treated her abysmally because she possessed the power to invoke such emotions in him. Draco had, for years, tried to force himself to hate the muggle-born witch, but every time he built up a collection of negative feelings and reasons why she was beneath him she would do something to catch his attention. Like correctly answer a question in class which no-one else knew, or throw a particularly witty insult in his direction, or order someone about in her bossy voice, even something as simple as a laugh or smile had the power to shatter all his carefully constructed negative thoughts and feelings like glass. He had hated her heritage, her friends, her House but he had never been able to truly hate Hermione; she fascinated him too much for that to be possible. What would she think of him if she knew he were about to receive the Dark Mark? _She'd be disgusted no doubt._ Still, Draco clung to his vision of her, and found that it filled him with strength and chased away most of his fear. _Maybe I don't have to go through with this_ he thought with a tiny glimmer of hope bursting in his chest. _I can still say no. I'm probably going to die, of course, but I'd rather die than do any of the atrocities this fucking snake will make me do!_ Quite suddenly Draco felt Voldemort withdraw from his attack.

"Impressive" Voldemort hissed, though he sounded more annoyed than impressed. "There are few minds that are able to resist my powers. I assume Severus, taught you to block your mind so efficiently" his scarlet eyes scanned the onlookers for his most trusted servant.

"I-I've come to a decision" said Draco in a wavering voice. Voldemort's gaze snapped back to Draco's face in outrage.

"I have not given you permission to speak Mr Ma-!"

"I'm not taking the Mark!" rushed Draco.

There was silence for several minutes, and then: "Pardon?!"

"I said. I'm. Not. Taking. The. Mark!" Draco repeated, his voice growing stronger with every word. "You can torture me and you can even kill me you _evil fucking freak_, but I -!"

"_CRUCIO!_" screamed Voldemort furiously.

The force of the curse threw Draco onto his back with an agonised scream. For several long minutes there was nothing but excruciating pain. Draco's body twitched, bucked, twisted and writhed on the ground, his limbs no longer under the blonde's control. Despite his agony, Draco stopped himself from screaming again, biting his tongue until he tasted blood; determined not to give Voldemort the satisfaction. Just as he thought the pain would drive him insane it suddenly disappeared, leaving Draco gasping for breath. His nerves were tingling and every muscle in his body ached. All around him Draco could hear the angry rumblings of the assembled Death-eaters buzzing like a hive of furious bees. Shakily, still panting, Draco sat up and faced Voldemort pulling a mask of cold indifference onto his features. Once again Hermione's face flickered in his mind's eye; bringing with it a curious feeling of calm.

"You have the _audacity_ to refuse _my Mark!_" screamed Voldemort vehemently. "I offer you the opportunity of a lifetime and you _throw it back in my face!_ You impertinent little whelp! You vile, repulsive _blood traitor!_ Lucius would be ashamed of you!"

"I couldn't give a flying fuck!" snapped Draco recklessly. "My father has made it infinitely clear that I have been nothing more than an enormous _disappointment_ since the day I was born. At least now, I'll be living up to his expectations."

Draco's words sparked outrage and astonishment in Voldemort; giving him the impression that few people had ever stood up to the Dark lord - in fact Potter was possibly the only person to do so and survive. _SHIT!_ He really was a dead man.

SMACK!

For the second time that night Draco's cheek blazed white-hot from where he'd been struck, this time however he could feel blood trickling down his face from the scratches made by Voldemort's long nails. He raised shining, hate-filled eyes to Voldemort's deranged and livid face. _If only Granger could see me now,_ he thought with a touch of amusement. _What would she think if she knew I was here, on my knees, shooting my mouth off at the most deadly wizard in the world? _In his head he pictured Hermione standing at a safe distance, watching the proceedings with her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open in astonishment. Helplessly Draco started laughing. Voldemort's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"The boy's out of his head" a voice sneered from the crowd.

"Kill him!" cried another.

"Yes, my Lord, kill him. He's clearly unworthy of the Dark Mark!"

Several more similar sentiments were vented into the night air, echoing off the crumbling church walls and sticking in Draco's head; effectively silencing him. So much for pureblood solidarity, most of the wizards and witches present were likely 'friends' and colleagues of his father, or the parents of his fellow Slytherin housemates. Some of them had likely known him since infancy and watched him grow up and yet here they were, demanding that he should be brutally murdered.

"_Silence!_" hissed Voldemort when the Death-eaters started getting slightly out of hand.

He leaned down, bringing his face very close to Draco's. "I've met some stupid people in my time, Mr Malfoy, but you really take the cake," he whispered angrily. "I offer you life, and a purpose and a new world, but you - _ungrateful little grub that you are_ - you turn your nose up at it; knowing full well the consequences that will come from such a disastrous decision!" he pulled back slightly, his face twisted in disgust "Such a disappointment ... you could have been great. How am I ever going to explain this to dear Narcissa?" he smirked at this, then rose to his full height once again.

"Consider this your trial, young Malfoy," he went on in a louder voice. "The people have spoken, the verdict is in ... and we find you _GUILTY!_ You have betrayed your blood, your parents and the Malfoy name, and you have paid a most dire insult to the Dark lord who has always been concerned for the interests of _our_ kind. For these crimes there can be only one punishment: Death!"

A cheer rose from the assembled Death-eaters. "When I'm through with you, boy" he leered "... you will beg me for my Mark." His face turned cold and cruel then "The Dark lord offers his hand in friendship only once, boy" he dropped his voice to a whisper "soon you will wish that you had taken it."

Draco's heart was beating a frantic rhythm against his ribcage, he felt his stomach plummet in horror as he realised that he wouldn't die at the hands of mere death curse. Voldemort and his minions would draw this '_punishment_' out for as long as they could and they would relish in his pain. _I'm sorry mother_ he thought wretchedly _I'm so sorry I have to leave you this way._ He closed his eyes briefly and summoned a memory of his mother's smile; not the rigid mask she presented to the rest of the world, but the special one she reserved for her son's eyes alone. She was so beautiful when she smiled like that, it would light up her entire face like the sun making her eyes sparkle like sapphires. Draco felt his own eyes burn from tears he refused to shed. Quite suddenly Narcissa Malfoy visage morphed into those of Hermione Granger and Draco's heart gave a pang of regret. _There's so much I've wanted to tell you for so long ... and now, I'm never going to get the chance to say them._ It was this thought that broke Draco's resolve. He opened his eyes, and gazed unseeingly ahead of him; a solitary tear rolling down his ivory cheek. He heard Voldemort laugh his awful laugh.

"At last," exclaimed Voldemort triumphantly "we break through that emotionless fac-!"

CRACK!

Draco's head snapped to his left, his eyes - like those of everyone else gathered together in the moonlit forest - fixing on the North facing church wall where the thunderous sound had originated. Transfixed he and the Death-eaters watched as a large, penetrating crack appeared at the right-hand corner of the centre arched window. Like the branches of a tree it quickly grew and spread across the ancient, decaying wall until there were fractures large and small covering almost the whole surface. Dust and pebbles rained down on the Death-eaters below. The wall swayed back and forth like a drunk, the ancient rain washed stones scraping and crunching as they shifted from the positions they'd been keeping for centuries. And then, as if in slow motion the wall began to fall forward toward the Death-eaters. Some instinct suddenly clicked in Draco's head. He didn't think, he just reacted. Tearing his gaze from the scene playing out around him, Draco scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction. There was such pandemonium , as the Death-eaters scattered in all directions, screaming and shouting, and bricks the size of small boulders crashed to earth crushing everything within their wake, that no-one (not even Voldemort) took any notice of Draco's bid for freedom. Fortunately for him, the Death-eaters had broken the circle around their Dark lord creating a gaping space in their ranks, leaving Draco with a clear escape route as the Southern wall had fallen many years previous. Not daring to check if he was being followed the young Slytherin vaulted over the moss-covered remains of the Southern wall and sprinted into the forest.

Draco quickly discovered that it was not easy to run barefoot, the twisting tree roots, uneven terrain, and low hanging branches weren't helping matters either. But Draco ran like a man possessed. The urge to survive, driving him on. _Oh what the fuck am I doing?_ He thought frantically. _Apparently, trying to outrun the Death curse _an imaginary voice sneered in Draco's head, a voice which had always taken the shape of Salazar Slytherin. _Oh sure, _now_ you show up!_ Draco thought in reply. _You do realise, of course, that I'm just a figment of your imagination, don't you? There isn't anything I could have done to help you in your ... sticky situation. _Draco grunted in annoyance. _Still I would have appreciated some moral support while facing that bastard, even if it is imaginary._ Merlin help him, he must be losing his mind! He tried to focus on his legs, on moving them one in front of the other as fast as he could manage. Hopefully that little disaster back at the church would buy him enough time to ... to what? He didn't have his wand, so even if he had his licence yet, he wouldn't be able to apparate. He couldn't even defend himself, he was utterly helpless, all he could do was run and hope they didn't catch up. _We're going to die,_ thought his inner Slytherin forlornly. _Yes, thank you for that vote of confidence! _Draco thought back irritably.

Draco began weaving his way through the trees erratically in an attempt to make his trail harder to follow. Perhaps it was because he'd just barely escaped certain death, or maybe Draco was just plain paranoid, but he began to feel like the forest was acting against him. The forest floor, riddled through with enormous roots, seemed determined to trip the Slytherin up and slash open his feet with its sharp stones, and thorny plants. He could feel deep scratches stinging on his chest and arms from where the branches and bushes had whipped and clawed at his flesh. Draco was forced to ignore the pain (which wasn't too difficult considering he'd experienced the cruciatus curse) and to keep running. His lungs burned with every breath he took and he could feel sweat running down his back. It was just a good thing he was so fit, that he made it a point to exercise and work out, otherwise he'd be keeling over in exhaustion.

He couldn't hear the chaos that was likely still going on at the church, so Draco had no idea if the Death-eaters were after him yet; all he heard was the blood pounding in his ears and his ragged breaths. _Keep going! Keep going! Don't stop, just don't stop. C'mon Malfoy, you can do this, move your arse!_ It became a mantra. He leapt athletically over a fallen log, gaining another cut to his left foot on his landing; he staggered slightly but kept going. He zigzagged between the ancient trees, no doubt leaving a trail of blood in his wake. _Merlin help me if they've got any werewolves with them, the scent of my blood will lead the bastards right to me!_ With that thought he put on an extra spurt of speed - dying by the Death curse was one thing, being torn limb from limb by a savage beast, was quite another. He gritted his teeth and hissed; his chest and legs were on fire. It felt as if his lungs were full of white-hot shards of glass and every breath was agony, and he was sure the muscles in his legs were about to tear apart. Draco wanted so badly to stop and rest, just for five minutes, but he knew if he did it could likely get him killed. He kept running - his movements becoming stupid and clumsy. There was still no sign of Voldemort or the Death-eaters, which encouraged Draco slightly. Perhaps they still hadn't noticed his disappearance, or maybe they'd gone the wrong way to search for him. _Maybe I'll get out of this alive!_ These were Draco's thoughts when the ground suddenly disappeared.

Unwittingly Draco had run over a steep ravine. For a moment everything slowed down as Draco fell through the air, then everything sped up as the ground came rushing at him. He half screamed half growled as his body collided with the ground and continued to roll down the ravine. Numbly he was aware of his body being pummelled by large rocks, protruding roots, and the trunks of young trees as he continued to tumble out of control down the gorge. Fortunately the adrenaline pumping through his veins protected him from feeling the pain of whatever injuries he was acquiring during this little escapade, for now at least. His body twisted, and turned beyond his power for several more minutes until quite suddenly he came to a sprawling stop; splashing in an icy brook at the bottom of the ravine. Draco wrenched his face out of the freezing water; coughing and spluttering. Still gasping he tried to sit up.

"Arrgh!" he cried, collapsing back into the water as a sharp pain flared in his side. Draco was no expert, but he was quite sure that he'd broken a few ribs during the fall.

Draco groaned, his body was beginning to ache with exhaustion and from the pummelling he'd gotten from the perilous hillside. He could literally feel the bruises forming all over his battered torso, arms and legs. His head was throbbing too; he reached up his hand and gingerly inspected the egg-sized lump on his head and the large gash that was slowly oozing hot, sticky blood all over his white-blonde hair. _Marvellous!_ He thought irately. Wincing and groaning Draco crawled slowly toward the other side of the gorge before collapsing again on his belly. He lifted his eyes up the slope he lay against and felt despair wash over him; it was just as steep and treacherous as the side he'd fallen down. There was no way he could climb up there in his current state. He just wanted to lie here and sleep. Draco let his eyes fall close. _Get up you miserable pile of dragon excrement, _chided his inner Slytherin. Draco ignored it. _If you don't get up you are going to die here!_ The teenager refused to move. _Is this how you planned on dying, Draco? Alone in a ditch, with _that_ girl never knowing how you truly felt?_ Draco opened his eyes, as the image of Hermione Granger flickered in his mind once again. With a grunt he pushed himself onto his elbows. He reached up and grabbed a root above his head and used it to drag himself to his feet.

"I can do this, I can do - Agh!" he grimaced, grabbing his side where his ribs were searing.

Sluggishly he dragged his heavy, aching form up the ravine. He'd gotten about halfway up when the rock he'd been reaching for abruptly exploded. "SHIT!" he yelled, as fragments of the rock bounced off his face. Whipping his head around until he cricked his neck Draco's mercury eyes scanned the opposite side of the gorge until they locked on a hooded figure. Draco felt his stomach plummet in dread and a spasm of fear shot down his spine. The Death-eaters had found him!

"Here he is!" screamed the Death-eater. "I've found him! He's here!"

"Shit! _SHIT!_" hissed Draco, as the earth beside him exploded with a green flash.

He began to frantically climb up the ravine; aided by another immense rush of adrenaline. He was vulnerable like this and he knew it. All around him there were flashes of light and mini explosions of dirt and rock as the Death-eater hurled curse after curse at him. Draco didn't know if the guy was missing him on purpose or if he just had terrible aim; he was simply grateful that some force in the universe was keeping him alive. He could barely believe it when he reached the edge of the ravine. With a harsh growl he hauled himself out of the ravine and staggered to his feet. Panting he gripped his injured ribs and glanced over his shoulder - several more figures were moving amongst the trees! Terrified he took off again, this time hindered by his broken ribs which made every breath excruciating. Draco could hear the Death-eaters shouting behind him; heard as their curses blasted chunks out of the trees and blew fissures in the earth. He kept running, but Draco knew all too well that he had pushed himself too far; his skin was glistening with sweat and his breaths were sharp and shallow and painful. He tripped and crashed to the forest floor.

"Grrgh!" he grunted, rolling onto his back and pressing both hands to his ribcage.

"Well, well ... what have we here" purred a malicious voice unexpectedly.

With a jolt of fear Draco sat up and watched as a tall Death-eater stepped out from between two enormous trees and stalked towards him. He scrambled backwards on his arse until his back collided with the trunk of another tree. His mind went blank with terror.

"Nowhere to run to now, boy" chuckled the Death-eater smugly. "I'm going to show you what we do to fucking scum like you!"

Draco couldn't breathe, there was a knot of fire twisting in his chest and it was steadily burning out of control. He could feel it coursing through his veins, and spreading out to his limbs. _What the fuck?!_ What was happening to him? Was this a curse of some kind? He felt his muscles contract and convulse, heard his bones crack as they shrank and twisted shape. Draco suddenly realised that he recognised this sensation and his mind screamed in horror.

"What the ...?" he heard the Death-eater mutter in confusion.

_Wait, if he's not doing this then ... what's_- A bright flash lit up the forest, blinding the stunned Death-eater for several minutes. Spots of colour clouded his vision and he blinked many times before turning his gaze back to where the Malfoy boy had been; and felt his mouth fall open. Draco lay very still on his side feeling quite dazed. The fire had left his limbs and the convulsions had stopped, but Draco's body still felt extremely strange. _What the hell happened to me? Why aren't I dead yet ... and what the hell is that smell?_ Draco sniffed the air experimentally, and detected several scents he hadn't noticed before. He could smell dirt, and rotting leaves, bark and tree sap. He sniffed again. His nose picked up the musk of sweat; two distinct flavours and there was something else ... something like rust and salt. _Blood! My blood! But how could I possibly...?_ He lifted his head and found the Death-eater gaping at him. His features were curiously more defined than before, Draco could make out the man's skull shaped mask. _Why hasn't he killed me yet?_ Cautiously Draco climbed to his feet; he wobbled and promptly fell back down. He looked down at where his hands should be and found two furry paws instead. He twisted his neck around to look at the rest of his body and discovered he didn't recognise himself. Then a new scent wafted under his sensitive nose and Draco turned his attention back to the Death-eater standing stalk still only a few feet away. It was a sharp unpleasant smell that burned Draco's nostrils and sent a primal thrill down his spine: it was the smell of fear. He felt a deep, powerful growl rumble through his throat. He got to his feet again and this time he didn't fall back down.

"Can't be ... impossible ..." mumbled the Death-eater, taking two steps back.

Draco growled again and curled his lips over long sharp teeth. The smell of fear intensified as the hooded man took another step backwards. Relying solely on instinct Draco ran forward and launched himself at the Death-eater, snapping his jaws around the man's throat and biting down until hot blood sprayed in his mouth and ran down his throat - part of Draco felt revolted, the other felt exhilarated. The Death-eater gurgled and fell to the ground with a thud. Draco landed on top of him, his jaw still closed on the wizard's throat. In vain the wizard clawed at Draco's thick fur, trying to push him off. Draco felt the man's pulse throb against his tongue - and he felt a rush of nausea wash over him, which mingled with an intoxicating feeling of power. After a few more frenzied moments, the Death-eater fell still. Draco released the wizard's throat and stepped back. _Oh fuck, I just killed a man! _Draco took a moment to familiarise himself with his new body. It was strange standing on four legs and having a tail was just bizarre; it felt like a stranger had been stuck to his arse. All his injuries were still there: the gash to his head, the broken ribs, the bruises, the scratches and the wounds on his feet (_my hind paws_). But he found he had the resilience to cope with them better now. His ears pricked up, a curious sensation indeed, as he heard more Death-eaters approaching the area. He turned and ran through the trees; moving faster than he ever could have managed before.

Draco wasn't sure how long he ran for but eventually he was forced to stop. He ducked down behind a large fallen tree, lying flat on his belly, his breathing harsh and laboured. The forest was darker now, the moon having disappeared behind cloud cover, but Draco could still see clearly. Unfortunately the Death-eaters had managed to keep pace with him, and even now he could hear them scouring the forest for him. His only advantage was that they were searching for a teenage boy, not an animal. He just needed a few minutes to catch his breath, just a few minutes to rest. His eyes slid closed as exhaustion overtook him.

"Draco!"

Draco jerked awake with a fright. How long had he been sleeping for? Draco couldn't tell, for all he knew it could have been a few minutes or a few hours, he was still immensely tired. All that mattered however was that someone had sneaked up on him while he'd been unconscious. He could hear them moving just beyond the security of his tree.

"Draco!" the voice hissed again. _Hey! I know that voice ... Snape?_ Surely his own Godfather wouldn't murder him in cold blood, would he?

"Draco, if you can hear me come out, please!" whispered Snape, and Draco thought he heard panic in the potion master's voice. "Please Draco, I'm not here to hurt you - in fact, I'm the only one in this forest wishing to preserve your life!"

Could Draco really trust his Godfather? It could be a trap; Severus Snape was, after all, one of Voldemort's most loyal and trusted servants. _Well, he's never let me down before, and mother trusts him with her life._ Draco rose to his feet. Snape, who'd pulled down his hood and removed his mask, froze as he stared back at him. Snape raised his wand and pointed it at Draco, who growled in response. Draco leapt onto the fallen tree and sat down, staring at his Godfather. Snape raised an eyebrow incredulously. He took a step closer, his dark eyes scrutinising the animal before him.

"D-Draco? Is that you?" he asked uncertainly. Draco nodded his furry head. "Merlin's beard!" exclaimed Snape. "How on earth...?"

A fierce frown suddenly formed on the potions professor's face. "Back at the church," he began furiously "I don't think I've ever seen anything so idiotic and reckless in all my life ..." Draco growled. "... and I can't remember feeling more proud of you, than I am right now!" To say Draco was stunned would be an understatement. "Now, come on, we have to get you out of here!"

---------------------------------

**Friday 27****th**** of June 1997**

**4:38am**

A sharp and urgent tapping was pressing slowly on Poppy Pomfrey's subconscious. She groaned softly and rolled over in her sleep, trying to ignore the pesky sound. She submerged herself once again in her dream. She was having such a lovely dream too; she was sitting on a white sandy beach, looking out at a deep blue ocean and sharing a picnic with Albus Dumbledore. She turned and looked at him and sighed blissfully. He was one of the most remarkable wizards she had ever had the pleasure of meeting. TAP. TAP. TAP. Dumbledore turned to her with a smile on his lips, his light blue eyes twinkling down at her. TAP. TAP. TAP.

"_Madam Pomfrey?" said Dumbledore. _

"_Yes Albus?" _

"_Madam Pomfrey?" he repeated._

"_What is it Albus? You know you can ask me anything."_

"_Wake up Madam Pomfrey!" said Dumbledore in a feminine voice._

TAP TAP TAP!

"_What?" said Madam Pomfrey, confused._

Dumbledore's face dissolved, along with the beach and the picnic and Madam Pomfrey found herself staring blearily at her bedside table.

"Madam Pomfrey, there is a young gentleman at the door, and he seems quite anxious to see you!" repeated the voice of Lucrecia Pyre; the former school nurse. Madam Pomfrey sat up in bed and blinked up at the gold framed portrait which occupied the opposite wall, and the stern face of Lucrecia Pyre.

"Who is it, Madam Pyre?" she asked sleepily.

"I believe he is one of the teachers, Madam Pomfrey. A tall gentleman, with long black hair falling over his face" explained the old nurse's portrait.

"Severus?" said Madam Pomfrey, feeling more confused. "What the dickens is he doing here?"

"From what I could gather, it seems a student has been injured" said the portrait.

"A student?!" cried Madam Pomfrey incredulously. "Bu-but the students have all been sent home for summer break!" She sighed and rubbed her eyes wearily. "Very well, tell him I'll be with him in a moment."

Madam Pyre nodded and walked out of her portrait. A few moments later the urgent tapping at the door came to a stop. Madam Pomfrey slid out of bed and stepped into a pair of slippers, she went to her bedroom door - pulling on a dressing gown as she went - which led to her office. She patted her messy hair self-consciously before pulling open her office door and coming face to face with Severus Snape; who was looking extremely agitated indeed.

"Severus, what seems to b-!"

Snape didn't let her finish her sentence, he grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her roughly out the doorway. Ignoring her angry protests, Snape then pulled her hastily into the hospital wing, down the rows of beds, to where one had been curtained off and where one Draco Malfoy was sprawled out on; bloody, bruised and unconscious.

" - really man, what has gotten into - _Morgana preserve us!_ What has happened to Mr Malfoy?!" she demanded shrilly, when she clapped eyes on the pale half-naked boy collapsed on the bed.

"I don't have time to go into details right now, Poppy," said Snape urgently. "I'll explain everything later, but right now I need you to wake the headmaster and get him down here -!"

"What ever for ?- Snape what happened to this boy?! Who did this to -?"

"I'm sorry but I have to go, just call for Dumbledore!" explained Snape hastily, retreating from the bed.

"Go? Go where? Severus I don't understand - what's going on?!" demanded Madam Pomfrey anxiously.

"Just wake Dumbledore! I-I've got to go back, there's much I still have to do ... Oh! Don't treat Mr Malfoy until you have summoned the headmaster, he needs to see the state he's in - he has to understand the seriousness of the situation! Don't touch the boy until Dumbledore gets here, do you understand?!"

"Now see here, professor Snape! I won't stand here and let this boy go untreated jus-!"

But the potions teacher wasn't listening, he had turned away and was running toward the double doors; his long black robes billowing out behind him like bat wings. Madam Pomfrey harrumphed indignantly.

"Outrageous!" she hissed furiously. She leaned out of the curtain surrounding Draco's bed and called to the second portrait of Lucrecia Pyre which hung beside her office door. "Madam Pyre, I need you to go up to the headmaster's office, ask one of the portraits there to go up to the headmaster's private chambers. Tell them that Professor Dumbledore is needed in the hospital wing at once!"

Lucrecia Pyre nodded once and disappeared. Madam Pomfrey turned back to her patient, a concerned expression furrowing her face. She'd treated him a few times in the past but she had never seen him in a condition like this before. Dark, ugly bruises were forming all over his pale torso and muscular arms, his feet were almost black and were cut to ribbons, his pyjama trousers were ragged and filthy, scratches criss-crossed over his chest and arms, his hair was incrusted with dried blood and more was oozing onto the pillow beneath his head, and upon his cheekbone were three thin scratches (clearly carved by fingernails) and a small purple patch where another faint bruise was appearing. She felt his pulse and found it steady and strong. She pulled out her wand and muttered an incantation before sweeping it over the teenager's unconscious form. The tip glowed red as the wand passed over Draco's ribcage. Carefully she inspected the damage; two broken ribs and one cracked. Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue in disapproval at whatever misadventure the boy had gotten himself into, _it's a miracle he didn't puncture a lung too!_ She continued to scan his body and was relieved when she found no further breaks, his remaining injuries were fairly minor and easily mended including that ugly gash to his head. Despite herself, she respected Snape's wishes and decided to wait for Dumbledore to arrive before healing the boy. She pulled a blanket over his chilled body and swept his moon-bright fringe out of his eyes. Draco's brow furrowed and he moaned in his sleep.

"Hush, it alright, you're safe now" murmured Madam Pomfrey soothingly.

--------------------------------------

**Friday 27****th**** of June 1997**

**3:52am**

"Arrgh!" cried a young man, who only a moment before had been sound asleep.

The teenager bolted upright in bed, slapping a hand to his forehead, and the lightning shaped scar occupying it which at this very moment was searing with a white-hot pain. It felt as if his head were being split in two from the inside. The boy felt a rush of rage that was not his own rise up inside him like a torrent of fire. At the same moment an image flashed before his eyes: a pale, sneering face and a set of angry grey eyes. The messy haired youth recognised the face and he gasped, both in pain and surprise. After five very long minutes the pain diminished to a sharp prickling sensation. Harry Potter sighed and fumbled in the semi-darkness for his glasses. When he found them he slid them onto his nose and rubbed his scar absent-mindedly. Harry couldn't recall his scar hurting like that for so long before and it troubled him, especially since he'd seen the face of his adversary: Draco Malfoy. Did this strange vision and pain mean that Malfoy had finally joined Voldemort's league of Death-eaters like his father before him? If so, it didn't explain the rage that Harry had felt a moment ago. He could tell by the continued prickling in his scar that Voldemort was still furious over something - what he couldn't begin to fathom.

Harry slid out of bed and padded over to the window. He peered out at the dark street, at the square ordinary houses and the neat front gardens and the cars parked along the pavement. Looking out at Privet Drive one would never suspect that a secret war was raging on in silence in the hidden corners of Britain; a war that Harry was central to. In a few weeks time he'd be leaving this place, most likely forever. He'd received a letter from Dumbledore the day after he'd returned to Privet Drive explaining that the Order would come for him before his seventeenth birthday and take him to the Burrow, and for their protection the Dursleys would also be leaving Privet Drive for a safe house. Neither of the Dursleys had been happy about this arrangement, but after Harry had bluntly told them they'd likely be murdered by Dark wizards if they didn't cooperate with the Order, they reluctantly agreed.

He sighed heavily and leaned his forehead against the cool window pane, trying to alleviate the dull ache in his scar. He tried closing his eyes but quickly opened them again when another vision of Malfoy (this time writhing on the ground in agony) flashed behind his eyelids. _Maybe Voldemort's done me a favour and killed the slimy ferret_ Harry thought darkly, only to feel a pang of guilt a moment later for thinking such a thing; even if it was about Malfoy. He stared blankly out the window and watched absently as a cat (most likely one of Mrs Figg's) slinked out from under a car, sat down on the pavement and started to lick its paw.

"Won't be long now" he muttered softly to Hedwig, referring to his imminent departure from Privet Drive ... and of course, to more serious matters which were steadily beginning to weigh upon Harry's young shoulders.

-------------------------------------

**Friday 27****th**** of June 1997**

**4:47am**

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"Hmm? What is it, Armando?"

"I hate to disturb you, Albus, but Madam Pomfrey has requested your presence in the hospital wing."

"Hospital wing?" asked Dumbledore groggily, sitting up "Whatever for? No-one's hurt are they?"

"I'm afraid I don't know" replied the portrait of Armando Dippet apologetically.

"Very well," groaned Dumbledore, heaving his tired body out of bed. "I shall go to her directly." He picked up his dressing gown and stuck his right arm clumsily through the sleeve.

"I am sorry, Dumbledore, but it seemed important."

"Not to worry, my old friend" Dumbledore reassured, as he struggled to put his left arm in the left sleeve of his dressing gown. "You just saved me from a very disturbing dream."

"Nightmare?" asked Dippet sympathetically.

"Well I suppose that depends ..." said Dumbledore distractedly, now moving in small circles trying to locate the left sleeve of his dressing gown.

"Depends, headmaster?"

"On whether or not you would consider being challenged to a pie-eating-contest by Mr Filch as a nightmare" explained Dumbledore. "_Bloody sleeve!_"

"Well, that doesn't sound too bad" said Dippet.

"It is when the pies are banana and kidney flavoured" Dumbledore went on, making a face.

"Eh?"

"I had a rather _eccentric_ great aunt when I was a boy; she had some rather ... unorthodox ideas when it came to combining food. Banana and kidney pie was a speciality of hers."

"I ... see" said Dippet, looking quite disgusted.

"Yes, she even published a book of recipes, you know... and amazingly managed to sell two copies" said Dumbledore, finally pulling on his left sleeve. "There we go!"

"Well then, I better see what Poppy needs me for."

-----------------------------------

"Ah! There you are, Professor Dumbledore. Come this way, he's right over here."

"Who is Poppy?"

"I'm sorry to wake you at this ungodly hour, sir, but he insisted. Just barged in here, bold as brass, handing out orders which he expects me to follow without question. Well I'll be giving Professor Snape a piece of my mind, I assure you!" fumed Madam Pomfrey, ignoring his question and leading him to a curtained off bed.

"Professor Snape? Severus isn't injured, is he, Poppy?" asked Dumbledore, concerned.

"No, of course not" she assured him. "Not yet anyway" she added darkly.

"Then who -?" began Dumbledore only to be interrupted as Madam Pomfrey continued her tirade.

"I hope you'll be having words with him too, sir, I mean he just dumps the boy here without any explanation as to what happened to the lad and then takes off again! And he insisted that I not treat the boy until you had seen him! I mean honestly it's absolutely outrageous ..."

"Boy?!" said Dumbledore, suddenly gripped by panic. Had something happened to Harry? He had been sure that they still had a few weeks in which to get Harry away from Privet Drive safely. Had he perhaps miscalculated?

"Poppy, who has been -?" but Dumbledore got his answer as they rounded the curtain.

"Mr Malfoy?!"

Madam Pomfrey moved round to the opposite side of the bed and pulled back Draco's blanket so the headmaster could see the numerous bruises blooming over his chest and arms.

"Just look at the state of him, Albus!"

"What happened?" asked Dumbledore, moving closer to the bed.

"That's what I would like to know" muttered Madam Pomfrey, covering Draco back up.

"Very well, Poppy, you have my permission to treat him now ... but um, would it be possible to ... leave the bruises?"

"Leave the bruises?! Why in the world would we want to do that?!"

"Just humour me ... they may come in useful" said Dumbledore mysteriously.

"_Useful?!_ Well ... alright, though this is an extremely unusual request ... even for you Albus."


	2. Chapter 2: I'm not a child

**Sunday 29****th**** of June 1997**

**6:23pm**

_Draco stared down at his feet where the body of the dead Death-eater lay; his mangled throat spurting blood all over the forest floor. He moved his eyes lower, to where the front of the wizard's robes had been shredded and where deep scratches were gouged into his chest. Draco looked at his hands; they were covered in blood and the dead man's flesh was stuck under his fingernails. He felt bile rise in his throat._

"_You see, Draco ..."_

_Draco whipped around and almost screamed when his eyes fell on the triumphant, leering snake-like face of Lord Voldemort._

"_... You're just like us. A killer!" hissed Voldemort, a horrible smile twisting his face._

"_No" whispered Draco._

"_And you enjoyed killing him, didn't you?" _

"_No!" lied Draco, recalling with disgust, the primal thrill he'd felt when he'd attacked the Death-eater._

"_You did, I know you did. It's your destiny to take the Mark and join us boy" hissed Voldemort, circling Draco._

"_I'll never join you! NEVER!"_

"_Never?" sneered Voldemort, "Where do you think you're going to go? Who will take you in? The Order? HAH! They'll never accept you, Draco, not with your history. Nobody wants you boy ... and when you realise that, you'll come crawling back to me with your tail between your legs ..." he paused, a poisonous smile curling his lipless mouth. "And you will beg me to give you my Mark."_

"_No! I'll never let you touch me, you bastard!"_

"_Yes, Draco, you will, because you know that you belong with us. You're a monster, just like Lucius ... just like Me!"_

"NO!" yelled Draco, bolting upright.

He was panting and drenched in a cold sweat. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the dim light and Draco took in his surroundings, noting with considerable confusion, that he was in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. Draco ran a trembling hand over his face, then frowned as he realised he was wearing a set of pyjamas that were not his own. He jumped when he heard a door open to his right (the curtain around his bed blocking his view of who it was) which was followed by two sets of hurried footsteps. A minute later Madam Pomfrey walked round the curtain, with Professor Snape close on her heels. A look of relief washed over both their faces and Madam Pomfrey rushed over and began fussing over him.

"We were beginning to worry that you'd never wake up" she said in a slightly disapproving tone.

"W-what? How ... how did I get here?" asked Draco, his voice cracking from lack of use.

"Professor Snape brought you here" explained Madam Pomfrey, giving the potions master a smouldering glare; Snape rolled his eyes in return.

Draco's eyes flew to his Godfather's face as a thousand questions burst in his mind; questions he didn't think he could ask while the school nurse was present. Snape, however, seemed to understand Draco's need for explanations and gave a tiny nod of his head.

"Madam Pomfrey?" he said, "I wonder if you could leave Draco and I alone for a moment, there are some things we need to discuss."

"In private" he added pointedly, when she opened her mouth to argue. "Perhaps you could get Mr Malfoy something to eat; it has been some time since he last ate."

Perhaps it was because Snape had mentioned it or perhaps it was simply a happy coincidence; but Draco's stomach chose that precise moment to give a loud growl - he felt his cheeks flush pink. Madam Pomfrey looked torn for a moment; part of her wanted a straight answer from Snape (since his previous assertions that he'd '_explain everything later_' had still come to nothing) but of course a larger part of her wanted to tend to the needs of her patient. Eventually her maternal instincts won out and she bustled off to fetch Draco something to eat. The young Slytherin waited until her footsteps faded before letting his questions burst forth.

"What happened Professor?! I remember you finding me in the forest and then ..." he trailed off his memory drawing a blank, he couldn't remember anything after Snape had found him. "Why did you bring me here?" he rushed on anxiously, "Does Dumbledore know what happened? Oh God! What about my mother?! He'll be furious with me, what if he goes after my mother for revenge?! Oh fuck, _fuck!_ I hadn't even considered that!"

"Draco -" Snape began only to be interrupted.

"Why did you even save me? I thought you were _His_ number one man? Does that mean he's coming after you too?! _SHIT!_ My stupidity is going to get everyone closest to me killed! I should have taken the fucking Mark!" said Draco despairingly.

"Draco listen to -"

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I-I just couldn't go through with it ... I don't ... I don't want to become my father. What am I going to do?!"

"Draco please!" snapped Snape, exasperated. "First of all, there is no need for you to be concerned for your mother. After I brought you to Madam Pomfrey I Flooed to the manor and revived your mother; I explained to her everything that had happened, with the exception of a few details. She understands the danger the both of you are in now, so while I collected your belongings, she made preparations to go into hiding -"

"Hiding?! So she's safe?" asked Draco anxiously, hardly daring to hope for such a possibility. "But, what about the manor?"

"Yes, my boy, Narcissa is safe. As for the manor, it has been sealed ... it will remain so until this war can be resolved most likely."

Draco sighed in relief, and then frowned when a troubling thought occurred to him. "What about my father? He would be able to open the manor again, what if the Dark lord helps him escape Azkaban so they can use the manor as their headquarters? Aunt Bellatrix has been dropping hints since I returned home that the Dark lord was planning such a thing."

"Narcissa foresaw that occurring, which is why she altered the security charms placed on the estate. Only when you and she are reunited will the manor open again" explained Snape solemnly.

Draco's frown deepened. "I won't be going to join her in hiding ... will I?" he asked hesitantly.

"No, I'm afraid not" sighed Snape, averting his gaze. "The safest place for you right now, is here at Hogwarts and within the Order's protection."

"And I don't suppose you're going to tell me where my mother has gone, are you?" Draco questioned bleakly. Snape shook his head.

"How long before I can see her again?"

For this, the potions master had no answer. Draco dropped shining eyes to his lap, fighting to keep his emotions in check. _I didn't even get to say goodbye ... what if ... what if I-something happens?_

"Details? What details did you leave out?" he asked, not really interested in the answer but desperate for something to distract him.

"I ... well I ... um ... I didn't think Narcissa needed to know what sort of _condition_ you were in when I finally found you" explained Professor Snape, putting heavy emphasis on the word 'condition'.

It took a moment for Draco to understand his meaning, when he finally did his eyes flew to Snape's face; who was watching him closely. How could he have possibly forgotten?

"I haven't told Dumbledore either" admitted Snape, lowering his voice surreptitiously. "I don't think he needs to know that particular detail ... not now at least."

He moved closer to Draco, leaning forward slightly. "How did you do it?" he asked curiously, his voice a mere whisper now.

Draco was silent for several minutes as he processed his memories and the strange sensations he'd felt that night.

"I don't know what happened ... there was this Death-eater, he was about to kill me ...and then ..." he ducked his head, burning shame licking at his insides. "I killed him; I killed the Death-eater."

"I know I saw the body" whispered Snape grimly. "Fortunately, no-one suspects that you were responsible."

"Y-you went back?!" said Draco incredulously.

"Of course I did!"

"I don't understand, you saved me and brought me to Hogwarts and yet ..." Draco trailed off exasperated.

"It's complicated" sighed Snape, avoiding his Godsons' gaze yet again. "All you need to know is that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, and the safest place for you is under Albus Dumbledore's watchful gaze."

Draco heaved a heavy sigh of his own and dropped his silver eyes to his lap once more. _Complicated _he thought irritably, _yes that sums you up perfectly Severus!_ The man seemed to possess an equal amount of respect and loyalty for both the headmaster and the Dark lord; but with whom did his true loyalties lie with? Voldemort and Dumbledore each stood for completely opposite values - Voldemort symbolised hate, power and pureblood supremacy - Dumbledore symbolised love, compassion and equality. It was impossible then, for Snape to believe in both concepts; so he must be lying to one of them - and Draco was inclined to think that it was most likely the headmaster who was being deceived. No-one, not even Snape an expert in occlumency, could withstand the Dark lord's mind invasions for long enough to hide any doubts or other loyalties he may have. Draco was sure of this. Besides he'd watched Snape torment Dumbledore's Golden trio for six years, paying particular attention to Potter: the headmaster's favourite student. Surely if he were Dumbledore's man, he wouldn't treat Potter and his friends so abysmally. _How can the old man be so blind?!_

Draco's stomach made another loud complaint, making the teenager wonder just how long he'd been unconscious for. "What day is it?" he asked curiously.

"Sunday" answered the Potions master promptly.

"_Sunday!_" exclaimed Draco. "Bloody hell!"

"Yes, you used up a great deal of energy that night and your body needed time to recover" explained Snape.

Draco opened his mouth to ask another question only to freeze when he heard the click-clack of heeled shoes marching toward him and his Godfather. A few minutes later Madam Pomfrey rounded the curtain, a tray of food in her hands.

"Here we go Mr Malfoy" she said, setting the tray on his lap.

Draco looked down at the plate of lamb chops, steamed vegetables and roast potatoes smothered in gravy and felt his mouth water. As Draco got stuck into his dinner, Madam Pomfrey looked expectantly between her patient and the Potions teacher. Snape pretended not to notice and flicked an imaginary piece of lint from his sleeve.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey" he said at length, in such a way that suggested she'd been dismissed.

"Well!" she huffed indignantly, giving the professor one last furious glare before stalking away to her office.

Draco swallowed a piece of potato so he could ask his final question. "So ... what happens to me now?"

"That remains to be seen" his Godfather replied. "Once you are fully recovered Professor Dumbledore wishes to talk to you ... he's ... curious to know why you didn't join the Death-eaters."

Draco's heartbeat quickened unpleasantly. The thought of talking to the headmaster filled the teenager with dread and anxiety. He'd really rather not discuss his reasons for refusing the Mark. Snape seemed to notice his Godson's discomfort.

"Might I add, Draco that I was very ... glad, that you didn't take the Mark" he said delicately, "Your mother never wanted _that_ way of life for you."

_Is that why he saved me?_ Draco thought, studying his Godfather's face curiously._ Why he brought me to Dumbledore, to respect my mother's wishes?_ Snape suddenly touched his left arm, a tiny frown creasing his brow.

"I shall leave you to your dinner, my boy" he said, trying and failing to summon a smile onto his lips. "I have things to do."

He put his hand on Draco's shoulder, squeezing it gently, before turning and leaving the teenager alone.

"'_Things to do_'" muttered Draco sceptically. "I know exactly where you're going, or rather to whom!"

Draco sighed despondently; he could feel weariness creeping back into his aching joints, making him feel sleepy and stupid. _Old age must be awful! _He finished his dinner quickly then set the empty plate and tray onto the floor before lying down and going back to sleep. He awoke several more times that night as his mind was plagued by more nightmares.

--------------------------------------

**Monday 30****th**** of June 1997**

**1:05am**

Harry crept silently down the stairs of Number four, and tip-toed to the kitchen. He went to the cupboard and took out a glass tumbler which he ran under the cold tap. He took a sip and closed his eyes as the icy water ran down his parched throat. With his free hand he leaned against the kitchen sink and stared out the window to the back garden. The house was dark and silent and perfectly still; Harry found himself longing for it to be like this all the time. Taking another sip of his water, Harry let his eyes roam around the dark, immaculate kitchen. He frowned when his eyes passed over the kitchen table and the three items sitting upon it. Next to an empty wine glass were a battered old shoe box and some sort of book lying open. Curious, Harry set his glass on the draining board and shuffled over to the table. He leaned over the book and squinted but it was much too dark to make out what was written inside it. Glancing over his shoulder Harry picked up the book (which was bound in a cracked leather cover) and carried it to the living room where he flicked on a small lamp and sat himself down.

The book turned out to be a small photo album. It was open at a faded coloured photograph of a family. A man and woman stood in a small sunny garden with too small children. The man was tall and dressed in a white short sleeved shirt and grey trousers, he had dark red hair and - Harry leaned closer and squinted - bright green eyes (_my eyes!_). His eyes moved to the woman, she was tall and thin with blond hair and bore an eerie resemblance to his aunt. Harry then studied the two small girls in the foreground. The older girl was thin and gawky with blonde pigtails; she was holding hands with her sister, a small pretty girl with dark red hair and bright green eyes like her father. Harry gaped at the photograph as realisation broke over him like a tidal wave. The girl in the photo was Harry's mother which meant the older girl was his aunt Petunia which meant that the man and woman were Harry's...

CREAK!

Harry's head snapped up to the living room door where his aunt Petunia was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed over her night gown. Harry's mouth flapped uselessly as he tried to think of an excuse but his mind had gone blank.

"Your grandparents" she said quietly, nodding at the photo album in his lap.

Harry looked back down at the photograph; a lump forming in his throat. Besides the first time he'd met Hagrid, Harry had never heard his aunt mention his grandparents before, nor had he ever seen any photos of them; it was almost as if they had never existed.

"His name was Harry," she went on, her voice barely more than a whisper, her expression unreadable. Harry stared at his aunt in shock. _I was named after my grandfather?!_ "He was an accountant. Her name was Violet, she was a doting housewife. They died in a car crash two years before Dudley was born."

"Why?" said Harry in a choked voice, "Why are you telling me this now?"

"We'll all be leaving this house very soon and I'm not likely to see you again once we do ... so I thought I would pass on these things while I still can. Vernon would be furious if I ever did the same with Dudley, in fact he'd be furious if he ever found out I had kept that album and the items in the box. My parents were good people and despite our differences I loved them ... I don't want them to be forgotten."

Harry Potter couldn't believe what he was hearing. _This has got to be some bizarre dream!_ He thought incredulously. _No-way is aunt Petunia having a civilised discussion about my grandparents!_

"I'm glad you found them like this ... now Vernon never has to find out, you can keep them in your room where he won't see them. I would prefer it if you didn't open the box until _after_ we part ways."

Harry couldn't think of anything to say so just nodded numbly in return. Petunia turned to leave but stopped and spoke over her shoulder. "There's some hot chocolate in the left hand cupboard, hidden behind the bran flakes. Might help you to sleep."

Then she was gone leaving Harry alone to flick through the pages of his mother's childhood. When he had looked through the album three times and his tears had dried on his cheeks, Harry switched off the lamp and returned to the kitchen. He stared at the old shoe box for several minutes before eventually picking it up and creeping up the stairs to his bedroom. The bedsprings creaked as he sat down. He placed the box and album at the foot of his bed and stared at them for a little longer. Harry was burning with curiosity to know what was in the box; he wanted to know why his aunt was so afraid of her husband seeing its contents. _Why shouldn't I look inside it right now?_ Harry thought defiantly. _I don't owe her anything!_ He stretched his hand toward the shoe box but hesitated. Perhaps Petunia had a very good reason for not wanting Harry to open the box while he was still living with the Dursleys; maybe the thing inside it would make him angry or upset, and possibly make living with his aunt even more unbearable. Harry sighed. He picked up the box and album yet again and stashed them under his bed. _I'll wait_ he thought, crawling under the covers and turning onto his side.

--------------------------------------

**Wednesday 2****nd**** of July 1997**

**8:30am**

A smooth, flat pebble arched high into the air; it twisted and fell back to earth landing in the black lake with a soft PLOP. The teenage boy sitting on the grassy bank of the lake heaved a contented sigh before throwing another pebble into the black water. Draco, waken early by yet more nightmares, had thrown a cloak over his borrowed pyjamas and - desperate to escape Madam Pomfrey's fussing - sneaked out of the Hospital wing before the school nurse could begin her daily routine. Draco wrapped his arms around his knees and watched as a pair of swallows twirled and danced above the smooth black water. He relished in having some time to himself to just think and sort through his jumbled thoughts; it seemed Madam Pomfrey didn't have much to do during the summer holidays, so she had taken to sitting with him for hours on end either pursuing a book or working on a piece of needlework while discussing subjects that Draco wasn't the least bit interested in, such as her days as a Hogwarts' schoolgirl, or her three grown up nieces and their romantic interests (apparently the eldest, Beatrice, was engaged to a second-rate musician whom Madam Pomfrey didn't seem to care for much "If they even go through with the wedding, I see it lasting a month at most!"), or the numerous patients she had treated during her time as school nurse("I remember one boy who had been the victim of a prank gone awry, his friends had tried turning him into a gecko but the transfiguration went wrong and he ended up looking like a hideous lizard-man"). The woman barely left him alone for five minutes and it was driving Draco insane! As for Professor Snape, Draco hadn't seen him since Sunday evening which was both a relief and a source of annoyance; Draco was still trying to guess his Godfather's intentions and worried about the possibly misplaced trust that Dumbledore had in his potions teacher, however Draco was annoyed by Snape's neglect because it would be nice to talk to someone (anyone!) _other_ than Madam Pomfrey.

He supposed he wouldn't see Snape again until he was 'recovered' enough to speak with the headmaster. Draco's gut twisted in trepidation. He wasn't stupid; he knew this meeting (or whatever Snape had tried to pass it off as) would in fact be an interrogation so that Dumbledore could judge whether or not Draco would be a trustworthy candidate to join the Order. _Not that I can blame him I suppose,_ he thought reluctantly _given my past misdemeanours and my previous attitudes to muggle-borns ... and my family._ Like it or not Draco would have to explain exactly why he had risked his life and refused the Mark, he would have to admit for the first time (to someone other than himself) that he no longer believed the crap his father had taught him about muggles and muggle-borns, which meant he would have to admit his feelings for Hermione; since Dumbledore would surely want to know what could possibly change Draco's opinion of muggles and blood purity. The young Slytherin didn't much fancy discussing his feelings for a girl he'd been pretending to hate for the past six years, especially not with a man he barely knew.

It was more than his impending meeting with Dumbledore that was making Draco nervous, he was also concerned with his immediate future. Undoubtedly he would have to start lessons as usual come the start of term, by which time all of his housemates would have likely heard of his betrayal from their parents. He wasn't sure what to expect from his fellow Slytherins - they'd shun him like a leper obviously - but what else were they capable of? There was a very good chance that some of the more unpleasant characters in his house would get violent with him, perhaps even go as far to try and kill him (after all, their parents had no qualms about murdering a filthy traitor like Draco). Was Hogwarts really the safest place for him right now? _This year is going to be bloody marvellous_ thought Draco sarcastically.

Feeling suddenly restless Draco got to his feet, as he had no intentions of returning to the castle just yet, he took off in a random direction across the green lawns. For hours he wandered around the school grounds aimlessly, paying little heed to his surroundings or where his slippered feet carried him. The day had grown brighter and warmer while he'd been walking and Draco was beginning to sweat under his heavy woollen cloak. Despite his best efforts, Draco's thoughts kept drifting back to that night in the forest. Up until now Madam Pomfrey's constant presence had been distraction enough to keep Draco's mind off such unpleasant memories (during the day at least). For the moment however the teenager was alone and there was nothing stopping him from playing that night over and over again in his head. Although the entire experience had been horrific and terrifying, Draco's thoughts focussed painfully on one particular moment; when he'd transformed into a wild beast and ripped open another human being's throat. The Slytherin's insides churned with guilt and revulsion each time he thought of it. It didn't matter to him that he'd done it in self-defence, it didn't matter that the man - _Death-eater!_ - was an evil, murderous follower of the Dark-lord who would have murdered Draco in a heartbeat if he hadn't been taken by surprise, what mattered was that Draco had taken another person's life.

He was a killer. His soul was irrevocably tainted. It made Draco feel dirty almost as if the man's blood were still on his hands. Without even realising it, Draco wiped his hands on his cloak; as if such a gesture would remove this feeling. _I wonder what Granger would think if she knew ... knew what I'd done, _he pondered morosely, his brow furrowing in a frown. _Hate me, no doubt – _Draco snorted at himself, his frown deepening _– she already hates me, if she ever found out ... she'd have even more reason to detest me!_ Draco kicked a rock lying on the lawn (cussing lightly when the action hurt his big toe _God damn bloody slippers!_) and stuffed his hands into his pyjama pockets. _What did you expect you stupid whelp?_ Sneered Draco's inner Slytherin scathingly, _did you really think that because you refused to join the Dark lord's ranks, that you could join the Order and that the Granger girl would welcome you with open arms?!_ Draco glowered at the ground. In truth a part of Draco, a very big part, wanted to believe that such a thing was possible; that he and Hermione could become friends ... that they could become something more.

"But how do I- Gmph!" he grunted, as he walked headlong into a large, solid wall with such force he fell over backwards.

"Watch where yeh're goin'!" boomed a familiar voice above him.

Draco blinked up at the half-giant Hagrid as he swivelled around to see who had walked into him. "Oh," grunted the gamekeeper "It's you!"

"Pleasure to see you too" returned Draco with a sneer.

"Dumbledore said yeh were back at the school, but what are yeh doin' out here?" asked Hagrid suspiciously.

"Taking a walk, not that it's any of your business!" snapped Draco, glaring up at the half-giant.

"In the Forbidden-forest?!" growled Hagrid, frowning down at the teenager.

"Don't be ridiculous! I'm not in -!" Draco froze, as he took in his surroundings for the first time. There were thick trees all around him; it seemed his mindless wandering had led him right into the very edge of the forest.

"Didn' yeh notice?" asked Hagrid, sounding surprised.

"No! I was thinking" explained Draco, annoyed with himself.

Hagrid peered down at the boy for a long moment and then leaned forward. Draco, stupidly thinking the gamekeeper was going to hit him, flinched away, but Hagrid (pretending like he hadn't noticed) simply seized the Slytherin by the shoulders and picked him up - as easily as one would pick up a doll - and set Draco on his feet. Flushing pink, Draco stared at his feet and muttered a quick 'Thank you'.

"Yeh hungry?" asked Hagrid.

The question took Draco by surprise and his eyes snapped up to Hagrid's face, which was no longer clouded in hostility. Draco hadn't eaten since dinnertime yesterday and was absolutely famished.

"Yes" he said quietly.

"Right, follow me then" said Hagrid, before marching away in the direction of his hut.

Draco was half inclined to just ignore him and return to the castle, and would have done had his stomach not growled imploringly at him. He sighed and took off at a sprint to catch up with Hagrid's long strides.

"What time is it?!" he panted, when he reached Hagrid's side.

"'Bout noon I reckon" said Hagrid, glancing down at Draco. "Dumbledore ... err ... told me what happened, by the way, with You-Know-Who."

"Did he now?!" said Draco tersely, annoyed that he had become a topic for discussion.

"Didn' believe Dumbledore at firs'. I mean, I always thought that yeh'd ... that yeh were -"

"What?! That I was just like my father?!" spat Draco furiously.

"Well, yeah" said Hagrid simply. Draco glared back at him in fury. "Now don' get yer wand in a knot! Yeh gotta admit yeh've done some pretty ... _low_ things over the years, an' said some very cruel things ter people!"

Draco opened his mouth to defend himself but found there was nothing he could say that would justify his actions over the past six years. He snapped his mouth closed and glared ahead of him.

"I don't want to be like my father" he muttered after a long pause.

Hagrid glanced down at the teenager but said nothing. Privately the old gamekeeper hoped the boy was telling the truth, and that he really intended to change his ways - it would certainly make Harry's life easier if he had one less antagonising Slytherin to worry about.

"I don't suppose Dumbledore happened to convey with you what he plans to do with me until term starts, did he?" asked Draco, trying to sound casual.

"To be honest, I don' think Dumbledore knows himself. I think he were as surprised as I was when he heard about yer decision."

"Great," muttered Draco.

"Don' worry, yeh're in safe hands with Dumbledore" Hagrid assured confidently.

"So I've been told" said Draco resentfully.

"Here we go" said Hagrid cheerfully, as his hut came into view.

It suddenly occurred to Draco that he had never actually been inside the gamekeeper's house before, and he had only seen a brief glimpse of the inside during his first year when he had witnessed Hagrid's dragon Norbert - _what a ridiculous name! _- being hatched. Draco felt a pang of guilt as he recalled this particular memory; it was partly his fault that Hagrid had been forced to give up his beloved pet. He'd spent the last few years coming up with schemes to get the gamekeeper and Care of Magical creatures professor sacked, and despite all this Hagrid had still invited him to his home for lunch. Feeling horribly awkward Draco followed Hagrid through the front door. Draco had only a second to glance about the room before he was tackled by something huge, grey and slobbering that sent him hurtling backwards to the floor.

"Eurgh!" Draco yelled, as Fang the boarhound licked and drooled all over his face.

"Back Fang! Back! Get off him yeh daft thing!" boomed Hagrid, reaching over to grab Fang's collar; he froze however when he heard Draco laughing.

"G-g-get off! T-that tickles ... stop it!" Draco laughed helplessly, as Fang licked his neck and cheeks.

Astonished and smiling with amusement, Hagrid hauled the boarhound off the Slytherin; and was treated to the rare sight of Draco Malfoy's face alight with laughter. Grudgingly, Hagrid admitted that the boy was quite handsome when that ugly sneer of his wasn't in place. Breathlessly the young Slytherin sat up and wiped ineffectively at the saliva on his cheeks with the cuff of his pyjama sleeve.

"Here" said Hagrid, handing Draco and enormous red handkerchief with white polka-dots.

"Thanks" said Draco, cleaning his face of doggy drool.

"Didn't think yeh were the sort of person who liked dogs" said Hagrid lightly, setting two saucers and two teacups on the table.

Draco got to his feet, wincing slightly as he felt the bruises Madam Pomfrey had refused to heal. "Well ... my father has always kept dogs, sort of a family tradition really ... I used to play with them in the gardens when I was younger" he explained, closing the door.

"Is that right?" asked Hagrid genuinely interested, "what breed do you keep?"

"Scottish deerhounds," said Draco, feeling a little more at ease with the gamekeeper. "My father has four at the moment ... I suspect the house elves are taking care of them at the moment."

He sat down at the table while Hagrid pored them both tea, feeling a sudden rush of homesickness. Draco adored those dogs; they were possibly the only creatures in the manor that loved him unconditionally and who didn't have some expectation on how he should behave. He could be himself with them. As a child he had treasured those days his mother had allowed him free reign of the grounds with just his father's hunting hounds for company. They would tear through the gardens - trampling his mother's precious flowers - and terrorise his father's albino peacocks; and Draco would feel almost free and safe from the knowledge that whatever mischief he got up to, the dogs would keep his secrets. Draco was certain the house elves were taking good care of the hounds, but it didn't make him miss them any less. Draco took a sip of tea as Hagrid went to his pantry. Inevitably his thoughts went to his mother and he felt a rush of melancholy settle over him. He'd only just returned to the manor and already he had been parted from her, and Draco had no way of knowing how long it would be before he would see her again.

"There, try that then" announced Hagrid, setting a plate in front of Draco, a plate that contained a slice of the most delicious looking chocolate cake Draco had ever seen. The Slytherin's mouth watered. _Damn! He's using my chocoholic tendencies against me!_

"Made it me self" said Hagrid proudly, dropping heavily into the chair opposite. "I like ter make a few practice cakes before I make Harry's birthday cake in July."

Draco picked up the fork Hagrid had provided and took a small bite. He resisted the urge to close his eyes and groan in pleasure; it was the most delicious chocolate cake he had ever tasted. _Damn! Who knew the big oaf would be good at something!_ He quickly loaded his fork with more cake. Wiping crumbs from his beard Hagrid asked:

"Well? What do yeh think?"

"It's great!" said Draco, his enthusiasm taking him by surprise. Hagrid beamed at him.

They sat like that for a little while, drinking tea and eating their slices of cake, with Hagrid doing most of the talking; asking Draco inconsequential questions - discreetly avoiding the topic of Draco's parents. At length Draco said:

"I should be going; Madam Pomfrey's probably got a search party out looking for me."

"Aye, wouldn't want yeh ter get in trouble" said Hagrid, getting to his feet and walking Draco to the door. "It was nice chatting with yeh ... Draco" he added, extending his large hand out to the teenager.

Bemused Draco allowed Hagrid to shake his hand - or rather, his entire forearm. "Nice talking with you too ... professor" replied Draco, allowing a rare smile to grace his lips. "Bye Fang" he added scratching the boarhound's head affectionately.

"If yeh ever need ter talk ... or yeh just need ter get away from the castle, feel free ter drop by an' pay me a visit ... I'm sure Fang would appreciate yer company again."

Astonished by this offer Draco merely nodded.

--------------------------------------

A few weeks ago if anyone had told Draco that he would spend the afternoon in Hagrid's cabin having tea and a civil conversation he would have called them a loon and laughed in their face; and yet he had just spent the last hour doing exactly that. Some sort of fragile truce had been forged between the gamekeeper and Slytherin and Draco's mind was still reeling as he slipped into the Entrance Hall. Yesterday he had hated Hagrid, and despite his altered opinion on muggle-borns, Draco had still thought that Hagrid was beneath him somehow because he was a half-breed ... but today, well Draco didn't know what he felt anymore, only that it wasn't hate or contempt. He ascended the marble staircase and slowly made his way back to the hospital wing still mulling over the days' events. He hadn't gone very far however when a clawed hand caught him in a bruising grip.

"Ouch!" he cried in alarm, his mind flashing back to _that _night in the ruined church.

"Got you!" hissed a triumphant and horribly familiar voice.

"Ow! Get off me!" yelled Draco, as his captor spun him around and he came face to face with Argus Filch (which was never a good thing, Mr Filch was best viewed from a distance.)

"I've been looking for _you_ all ruddy day!" snarled Mr Filch indignantly, spittle flying from his mouth and spraying Draco in the face.

"So!" sneered Draco, leaning back in disgust as far as Mr Filch's iron grip would allow.

"SO! _SO!_" shrieked Filch. "I've got better things to do with my time than to chase after truant students who shouldn't even be here in the first place!"

"Well forgive me, for robbing you of precious hours that could have been spent prowling the corridors like some malicious old skeleton with that hideous creature you call a _cat!_"

"Why you insolent, arrogant little -!"

"Mr Filch" interrupted a voice Draco welcomed. "Wherever did you find Mr Malfoy?"

"Professor Snape" said Filch, whirling both himself and Draco about to face the potions master. "This boy needs to be punished! I waste my entire day looking for him, and when I finally track him down all he can give me is cheek, I demand that -!"

"Track me down?! You grabbed me in a bloody corridor you gormless git! A blind troll with half a brain could have done it!" drawled Draco arrogantly.

"That's quite enough Mr Malfoy," Snape cut in curtly. "Thank you Mr Filch for finding him, I'll make sure he's properly dealt with. You may return to your duties, Filch, I shall see to it that the boy makes his way back to the hospital wing."

With a one last hateful glare Filch released Draco and stalked off toward his office. Rubbing his shoulder Draco turned back to Snape with a smirk on his lips.

"'_I'll make sure he's properly dealt with_'" he imitated, "Nice touch, I liked that."

"You know if this had happened during term I'd probably give you a detention!" snapped Snape angrily, "I'm very disappointed in you Draco. What the hell were you thinking?! Do you understand how much danger you are in? You can't just go wandering around on your own whenever you feel like it!"

"I thought you said the safest place for me right now was at Hogwarts" replied Draco irritably, thrown by his godfather's reaction.

"That's not the point and you know it! Have you_ any_ idea what you put Madam Pomfrey through today?! She's been at her wits end because of you, and considering all she's done for you since you arrived I think that a very_ poor_ way to repay her!"

"Look I'm sorry for any distress I caused" said Draco, his voice rising in anger and frustration "but I needed some space ... time to think ... and the woman was driving me potty, I just _had_ to get away for a few hours! I'm not a child anymore, Snape; I don't need someone hovering over me every five minutes!"

They stood there for several minutes, staring daggers at each other.

"Well, seems its more than obvious to me that you are recovered enough to meet with the headmaster. I shall inform Professor Dumbledore once I return you to the hospital wing and we can try and schedule a meeting for this evening."

Draco covered his dread with a mask of indifference. "Alright, sure ... fine!" he spat petulantly.

"Come along then, we've kept Madam Pomfrey waiting long enough" said Snape curtly.

"I can find my own way back!" hissed Draco resentfully.

Snape drew himself to his full height and narrowed his black eyes at the stubborn teenager. "Very well, but be sure not to take any detours along the way ... _if_ you do I _will_ hear about it."

With that he turned on his heel and stalked off down the corridor, his black robes billowing out behind him. Draco glared after him furiously. _How dare he treat me like I was five years old! I stood up to You-Know-Who for Merlin's sake, stood up to him and survived!_ Barely, a snide voice at the back of his head reminded him. _That's not the point! I still stood up for what I believe in. I looked _Him_ in the face and told him No; something my father has _never _done!_ Breathing heavily, Draco stomped back toward the hospital wing, his stomach twisting with trepidation. He would have given anything right then to get out of his meeting with Dumbledore.


	3. Chapter 3: Secrets and Sherbet lemons

**Wednesday 2****nd**** of July 1997**

**4:32pm**

"Hermione, dear, is that really you?! My goodness you've grown!" cried Mrs Pierce of number 81.

Summoning a false smile onto her lips Hermione Granger allowed her elderly neighbour to pull her into a light embrace. Her parents had decided that the best way to celebrate their daughter being back home for the holidays was for them to host a barbeque for all their friends and neighbours, so that Hermione could catch up on all the local gossip that she had missed while away at school. Her parents seemed to think it would be good for her to spend some time with muggles for a change. Frankly Hermione thought it was a horrendous idea. Not that she abhorred the idea of spending time with muggles, it was just this particular group of muggles that she had a problem with. She barely knew her neighbours anymore ("Which is exactly why this will be good for you" her mother pointed out when Hermione had protested against the barbeque) and many of them had teenage children that they would surely bring along; children who had teased Hermione for as long as she could remember. As for her parents' friends, well, they were nice enough she supposed, but they would all be curious about her school and her life in general - since they'd seen very little of her ever since she'd started Hogwarts - and it was always tricky trying to explain these things; Hermione was terrified that she would slip up and mention something she shouldn't, like a Quidditch game or a particularly interesting transfiguration class. These were just minor reasons for Hermione hating this entire situation however. Since she was a very small child, Hermione had felt like she was different - feelings which had been justified when she'd received her Hogwarts letter age eleven - but now her isolation to these people felt more pronounced. They knew nothing of her world; of the things she'd learned in her six years at Hogwarts; of the things she had seen, both wonderful and terrifying; they knew nothing of her friends; or of the war raging on in secret, a war Hermione's fate was irrevocably entangled with.

On the other hand, Hermione had been dealing with her steady separation from the muggle world for six years now, so could handle it tolerably well. No, the thing that was really troubling her - that was making this gathering so painfully difficult to bear - was the very distressing news her parents had informed her of the day she'd returned home. It had cast a stone of fear and worry into her heart; a stone that was growing heavier with each passing day. It was constantly on her mind, niggling away at every thought she tried to distract herself with. Her parents told her not to worry, that everything would be okay. But how could she _not _worry?! How - _how_ - could they _possibly_ say that everything would turn out fine? How could they say such things; when they knew like she did how easily they could be proven wrong? Right now her parents were pretending like everything was normal; like they didn't have a care in the world - and Hermione could barely stand it. She knew they were only doing it for her sake, to try and reassure her as best they could, but it wasn't working. Hermione didn't want them to protect her - not from _this_ at least - she wanted them to be honest with her, because she knew they were keeping things from her; things that would only make her worry more. She wanted to be strong, really she did, but every time she looked at her father...

Fighting back tears, Hermione took a deep breath and prepared to greet the latest arrival. "Mr Colby," she said, hating the fake cheer in her voice. "Its good to see you again, my Dad will be so glad you could make it."

"Hermione! My God, I've not seen you since the summer before last I think," returned Mr Colby, a kind, jovial gentleman who was a friend of her father's. "And just look at you, last time we met you were a girl, now you're a young lady and a very pretty one too."

"Thank you" said Hermione, arranging her features into what she hoped was an embarrassed sort of smile. This is exactly why she hated being the one to welcome all the guests; every last person she greeted just _had_ to comment on how much she had grown since they'd last seen her, or remark on how she had blossomed into such a '_fine young woman_'. It was really getting quite tedious. _It's not as if I've even changed all that much_, she thought in vexation, _I mean sure, I'm taller and I've filled out like all girls do but other than that I'm still the same Hermione; I still have the same bushy brown hair they used to tease me for, the same brown eyes, same freckles, same buck- Oh! Well okay so I'm still the same minus the buck-teeth._

As Mr Colby wandered off to find her father, Hermione turned to see a family of four walking toward her, groaning inwardly when she recognised them. "Oh great!" she muttered unhappily under her breath. The Graham family were the most annoying and stuck up people in Hermione's street. Mr Graham was a tall, burly, red-faced gentleman in his late fifties, he was short-tempered and overbearing and he spent his free time either polishing his expensive Rolls Royce or barking at local kids who kicked balls too close to his pristine garden. Mrs Graham was a blonde attractive woman - the sort of woman that men drool over - but she had a very grating personality; she seemed to think it her God given right to poke her nose into everyone's business and interfere with their lives and she was a relentless gossip. Their daughter, Heather - who must be around fifteen by now - was a small, sour-faced girl whose hair colour changed each time Hermione saw her (today it was cheery red). As a child Heather had been a whiny tattletale and Hermione had disliked her a great deal, but these days she barely interacted with her so didn't know much else about her. Finally there was Markus, Heather's older brother, and the bane of Hermione's life.

It had been a while since she had seen him last and she noted that he had grown into a tall, muscular and handsome young man, with spiky blonde hair and aquamarine eyes, _what a shame about the personality_ thought Hermione disdainfully. As a child it had been a favourite pastime of Markus' to tease and torment Hermione until she either ran away or burst into tears. It seemed he wasn't happy unless he was making fun of her about something. She had hoped to avoid seeing him this summer, since he was at university now, but it looked like the fates were against her. Taking a deep breath, Hermione tried to keep the hatred she felt for him from showing on her face; which became infinitely more difficult when Markus finally spotted her and his mouth curved into an evil grin.

"Harmony, dear" chirped Mrs Graham, as she reached the teenager. "How lovely to see you again, it's been too long."

Markus' grin widened maliciously as Hermione struggled to keep her features friendly, and suppress the growl of fury stuck in her throat. For as long as she could remember Mrs Graham had been calling her 'Harmony' despite the numerous times Hermione had corrected her. The woman's ignorance was infuriating! _Deep breaths Hermione, deep breaths. Who cares if the woman is too _stupid_ to remember your name, it's really not that big of a deal! _

"Hello Mrs Graham, Mr Graham" she greeted politely, her smile strained. "Glad you could all make it."

Mr Graham merely grunted and nodded his head in acknowledgment. Heather glowered and walked further into the Grangers' garden and was quickly followed by her parents. That left Hermione alone with Markus. He cast his eyes lasciviously down her figure, noting that the pale yellow summer dress highlighted her curves and showed off an expanse of her long shapely legs. Hermione dropped her friendly facade at once and glared up at him.

"Well, well, well little Permione's all grown up" he sneered. "You know if you chopped off that rats' nest you might not look half bad."

"Don't call me that!" snapped Hermione furiously. "And forgive me if I don't take fashion advice from a porcupine!"

"The birds happen to love my bad-boy spikes actually, _Permione_" drawled Markus, raking a hand through his hair. "But what guy is ever going to like _that_ tangled mess?"

"It's a shame you can't attract any girls with your '_bad-boy spikes_'" retorted Hermione derisively, "but I hope you find a nice _**pigeon**_ to settle down with!"

Not giving Markus a chance to reply she turned on her heel and marched away, desperate to escape this entire palaver. Ignoring her mother who called out to her as she passed Hermione rushed into the house and sprinted up the stairs to her bedroom. Throwing herself on her bed she let the tears come; this outburst had been building all day and Markus had simply been the catalyst. She pressed her face against her pillow, soaking it in seconds, her body shaking with muffled sobs.

"Hermione!" called a voice from the hallway. "Hermione open the door, sweetheart."

The Gryffindor ignored her mother and stayed where she was.

"Hermione, please open the door" Alison Granger pleaded.

"Leave me alone!" Hermione shouted over her shoulder.

"Honey please, your father and I have gone to a lot-"

"I don't care about the stupid barbeque!" sobbed Hermione, anger lacing her words. "I _won't _pretend like nothing is wrong!"

Hermione heard her mother sigh then her soft footsteps retreating down the hallway. She lay there for several more minutes; the last of her tears drying on her cheeks. Wiping her eyes she sat up and crossed her room to where one wall was taken up by a large bookcase brimming with different sized books. Reaching up Hermione took from one of the shelves not a book but a picture frame. Sitting back down on the bed she gazed fondly at the photograph inside. With fresh tears forming in her eyes Hermione hugged the photo frame to her chest. There was a soft knock on the door.

"Hermione?" it was her father. "May I come in please?"

Sighing Hermione reached over to her bedside cabinet where her wand lay, she picked it up and jabbed it in the direction of the door. There was a click followed by the sound of the door opening as Richard Granger stepped inside. He was wearing a white apron over his khaki shorts and short-sleeved shirt. Making his way around the bed he sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"I saw you talking with Markus, what did the foul little wart say this time?" he asked kindly.

"It's not Markus dad" she sighed in exasperation.

Richard heaved a sigh of his own. Of course he'd known this, but it didn't stop him from hoping that Hermione's distress was over something so simple; bullies he could deal with, this latest problem however...

"Can't we just have a little fun? Enjoy the summer while it lasts?"

"How do you expect me to have fun when all I can do is worry?!" she demanded quietly.

"Princess, nothing bad is going to happen to me" insisted Richard.

"You can't know that!" hissed Hermione, more tears sliding down her face.

Stricken by her tears Richard pulled his daughter more securely against him, letting her head rest on his shoulder and rubbing small circles on her back in an attempt to comfort her. For the first time he took notice of the picture frame and gently pried it from Hermione's fingers. Glancing down he felt a smile tug on his lips.

"I remember when I took this" he whispered. "Took me ages to get you two to settle down long enough to have your picture taken."

"I miss him" sniffed Hermione sadly.

"I miss him too ... but sweetie, things don't happen the same way twice. Just because he ... because we lost him, doesn't mean you'll lose me too." He paused a moment, pressing a kiss to Hermione's hair. "Now, you put this out of your head you hear? I don't want you worrying about things out of your control."

"Dad-!"

"No! You're seventeen years old Hermione, the only thing you should be worrying about is ... makeup and school and ... and boys."

"Dad, you know very well that my life isn't that simple. Not when I'm friends with Harry. There are more important things than makeup and boys."

"Yes I know. I suppose any chance of normality goes out the window when you insist on becoming best friends with a famous wizard" Richard chuckled.

"Harry needs my help" explained Hermione defensively. "He can't face Voldemort by himself."

"Then focus on helping your friends, love, and let me and your mother deal with things here."

Knowing full well that she couldn't just ignore what was affecting her family Hermione forced herself to nod for her father's sake.

"Right then! Lets get back outside, before your mother burns the burgers" said Richard cheerfully, bounding to his feet.

"I'll be down in a minute" said Hermione, summoning a small smile onto her face.

She waited until her father left the room before rising from her bed and returning the photo frame to its place on the shelf. Checking herself in the full-length mirror and finding that she was decent she took a steadying breath then left her room.

* * *

**Wednesday 2****nd**** of July 1997**

**6:17pm**

Draco paced back and forth before his bed, glancing at the hospital wing doors every few minutes. Madam Pomfrey was still sulking in her office and hadn't spoken to him much since he'd returned from his little escapade. He felt a little guilty for making her worry, but mostly he was grateful for the peace. He had changed out of his borrowed pyjamas and into a silk green shirt and a pair of black slacks. His stomach was churning with apprehension as he waited for Snape to show up and take him to the headmaster. He was going over in his head all the possible questions he would likely be asked and the best ways of answering them. There was no way around it, Draco was sure he would have to come clean about his feelings for Hermione Granger. Dumbledore was just so bloody perceptive! He would _know_ that Draco was hiding something. Yes he would understand Draco's reluctance to become a cold-blooded murderer but the headmaster would certainly see that it would take a far greater reason to make the teenager go against everything he had been raised to believe in and defy the Dark lord, risking his life and the lives and reputation of his family. And if he ever expected to earn Dumbledore's trust he would have to be honest with him, assuming of course that Dumbledore even believed him in the first place. He had himself to blame really, for the last six years he'd fooled everyone into believing that he was exactly what Lucius Malfoy's son should be: a proud, domineering bigot. But he wasn't and he hadn't been for many years now, he had simply kept up the pretence for appearance sake.

Draco stopped pacing for a moment and wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. He needed this meeting with Dumbledore to go well, because he needed the opportunity to join the Order. The chance of joining the Order gave Draco hope, a hope he'd scarcely allowed himself to have these past few years; hope that he could make amends with Hermione and build some sort of relationship with her - even if it was just friendship. Since the summer before second year, when Lucius Malfoy had discovered the true heritage of Hermione Granger and made his disapproval apparent, the thought of a relationship - _a positive relationship_ - with the pretty Gryffindor girl had seemed impossible to Draco which had been a constant source of frustration and melancholy. She was everything he wanted in a girl: smart, talented, feisty, and beautiful. She plagued his thoughts and drove him to distraction. She infuriated him, challenged him, amazed and dazzled him. She was the tantalising forbidden fruit that dangled infuriatingly out of his reach. Until now. No longer would he stand on the sidelines and watch as the male population of Hogwarts drooled over _his_ Gryffindor and fumbled for her attentions. They were only interested in her because she was Harry Potter's best friend, or because they'd noticed that she hid quite a tempting figure under her uniform and school robes. Draco had liked her before any of them, before even Potter or Weasley had made friends with her. Thinking of Weasley made him bunch his hands into fists. He could still recall the violent jealously he had felt last year when Hermione had briefly dated the Weasel, it had only lasted a month but for the entire time Crabbe, Goyle and the rest of his housemates learned to avoid him else they be subject to his temper.

There had been a pronounced swagger in his step and a triumphant grin plastered to his face the day word got out of their breakup. For years everyone had just assumed that Hermione would end up with the Weasel - which was a major reason for Draco's animosity towards the red haired Gryffindor - so the discovery that their relationship had crumbled after a measly three and a half weeks came as a great shock to most. Draco however could only rejoice; that is until he realised that Hermione was now prey to all the horny, dirty-minded, teenage boys that Hogwarts possessed. And it didn't take long for them to go in for the kill either; less than a week later Cormac McLaggen started sniffing around. Somehow the arrogant bonehead managed to convince Hermione to go on two dates with him. Thankfully there wasn't a third date and Draco discovered the reason for this one evening in the library a few days later when he happened to overhear a conversation between three Hufflepuff fifth year girls; apparently during their second date McLaggen had gotten a little _too_ friendly with Hermione, so much so that the brute had torn her frock and she had slapped him in retaliation. By dinner time the next day McLaggen found himself in the hospital wing, confunded, beaten to a pulp and unable to recall just who had attacked him. It was the first time Draco could recall lashing out at someone so violently; but the thought of that slime-ball with his mitts on Hermione made his blood boil and when he'd discovered the bastard alone in the fourth floor bathroom he couldn't control himself from getting revenge.

After that Hermione went on a few dates with a Muggleborn boy named Terry Boot from Ravenclaw but to Draco's relief it never amounted to anything serious. He heard rumours that Seamus Finnigan was planning on asking her out but he never seemed to get the balls to do so. And supposedly Ernie Macmillan had invited her on a few study dates which yet again never amounted to anything more serious. It seemed the incident with McLaggen had knocked Hermione's confidence with boys somewhat and she wasn't yet prepared to commit herself to another boyfriend just yet; for which Draco was grateful for.

"Draco?"

Draco jumped at the sound of Snape's deep baritone voice. He whipped round to find Snape staring at him from the opposite end of the Hospital wing.

"It's about time!" Draco snapped nervously.

"Getting impatient, are we?" asked Snape sardonically. Draco huffed an irritated sigh and glared at the potions master. "Come along then."

The young Slytherin took a steadying breath before crossing the distance separating him from his Godfather and then followed him out into the corridor. Draco's heart was beating a frantic rhythm in his chest as he listened to his and Snape's footsteps click-clack against the flag-stoned floor.

"There's no reason to be nervous, Draco" said Snape suddenly, startling Draco. "All you need to do is be honest with Dumbledore and tell him exactly what happened."

"Does that include how I killed that Death-eater? Or the '_state_' in which you found me?" asked Draco cynically.

Snape came to a halt, grabbing Draco by the wrist and forcing him to do the same.

"You listen to me, it is _imperative_ that you keep that a secret - at least for the time being - it could very well _save_ your life some day, just as it did that night! The fewer people that know about it the safer you'll be. Do you understand?!"

Taken aback by Snape's reaction Draco nodded. "As proud as I am of your decision, Draco, it is time you realised just how much danger it has put you in. You do not know the lengths the Dark lord will go to seek his revenge upon you."

Draco stared at the potions master in alarm, as his grip upon his wrist became almost painful. Snape's face was grave and serious as he continued. "I know what He is capable of! I have seen things ... dark, _terrible_, things Draco ... _atrocities_ you couldn't begin to imagine! I do not wish the same fate for you!"

Breathing heavily Snape took off at a hurried pace along the corridor again, and after a moment's hesitation Draco followed. Snape's warning had awakened a tendril of fear in Draco and that combined with his intense anxiety over his meeting with the headmaster made the young Slytherin feel like running in the opposite direction as fast as his legs could carry him and hiding in a safe secluded place until this stupid war had resolved itself. _Don't be such a coward!_ He scolded himself. _Malfoys are not cowards._ This thought summoned a troubled frown upon Draco's face. He didn't know what it meant to be a Malfoy anymore. His father had taught him that Malfoys were not cowardly; but Draco knew that members of his family were capable of far _worse_ things than cowardice - and that knowledge made him extremely uncomfortable. What if his actions were all for naught? What if his blood was and always had been irrevocably tainted by his heritage? Is that why he had been able to kill that Death-eater? Was he doomed to become evil? _No! No! I'm – I'm not evil! I'm not my father, I'm not! I refuse to believe that I'm destined to become some God-damned Death-eater!!_

"Draco!" snapped Snape suddenly, jolting the teenager out of his troubled thoughts. "Hurry up!"

Draco had been so absorbed by his own reflections that his footsteps had gradually slowed so much that he had fallen several yards behind his godfather, who was glaring at him impatiently. "Coming" he called, sprinting to catch up.

"Honestly, boy" exclaimed Snape sardonically, "anyone would think I was leading you to your own execution!"

Draco tried to smile but the expression that formed on his face was more like a grimace. Snape took a moment to really look at his godson and was concerned by what he saw. He looked paler than usual - which was saying something - his eyes were bright and anxious, and judging by the way he held his body stiff and tense the boy was struggling against the urge to run away. _Oh damn!_ Thought Snape despairingly, _tell me I haven't terrified the lad by letting my mouth run amok?!_

"Here now, there's no cause to look so grim, Draco" said Snape in an unusually gentle tone. "I'm sorry if what I said before scared you ... but I just want you to be on your guard. To be sensible ... that's all."

Draco stared at the potions master tremulously.

"And you needn't worry yourself about Professor Dumbledore; he just wants to hear your account of things, so he can decide what to do with you. And no matter what happens you have my word and his that you will be protected."

"It's not that," whispered Draco "not really. I mean ... I am worried about what I'm going to tell him but ... that's not ... I mean, em, I ... what if ..." his voice tailed away, as his brow furrowed into an uneasy frown.

"Then what is it, Draco?" asked Snape worriedly.

"Am I evil?!" Draco blurted out, feeling instantly stupid and childish for asking such a thing. He felt his cheeks burn with shame and couldn't bear to lift his eyes to his godfather's face.

Snape looked quite taken aback by Draco's question. "What?!" he exclaimed. "Why would you think such -?!" then understanding struck him "Oh!" he said. "Oh" he repeated uneasily.

Draco felt Snape's hand close on his shoulder.

"Draco, look at me" said Snape sternly. Reluctantly Draco lifted his head and met his godfather's surly, black-eyed gaze. "You are _not_ evil! You were defending yourself against an evil man, a man who has taken hundreds of innocent lives and would have happily added you to his list of victims. There is no shame in what you did ... take it from someone who knows."

Draco didn't think he wanted to know what his godfather meant by that. Still he was comforted a little by what the potions teacher had to say. He nodded his head to acknowledge his understanding. Dropping his hand Snape continued along the corridor; relieved when Draco kept pace with him. All too soon Draco found himself on the seventh floor, standing before the gargoyle statue that guarded the spiral staircase to the headmaster's office. Snape muttered the password ("Jelly Slugs") and stepped onto the spiral staircase that instantly began to ascend. Draco hastily sprang after his potions teacher.

"I almost forgot!" muttered Snape, turning to Draco so sharply that he almost lost his footing. "Make _sure_ you put up a mental block before you enter Dumbledore's office!"

"But -!"

"_Just do as I say!_" snapped Snape sternly.

Irritated by his godfather's continuous shifting moods Draco reluctantly did as he was told. Draco wasn't really sure he should be purposely trying to hide '_certain details_' from Dumbledore, especially since he had already decided that he had no choice but to 'fess up to his feelings for Hermione. He understood that Snape was only trying to protect him but it was frustrating that his insistence on this matter was making things all the more complicated for Draco. After several minutes the spiral staircase came to a jarring halt and Snape and Draco stepped off. There was a slight pause as the two Slytherins stared at the polished oak door and brass door-knocker. Then Snape turned to Draco and said "Ready?" Draco nodded and Snape proceeded to rap his knuckles smartly against the door.

"Come in" they heard the headmaster call cheerfully.

Steeling himself for what was coming Draco followed the potions master into Dumbledore's office. They found the headmaster reclining behind his desk, his hands steepled in front of him and a benign, friendly expression upon his whiskered face. Draco had been in the beautiful circular room before - mainly due to his misbehaviour - but it was in that moment, as he causally gazed about him, that he had a horrible moment of clarity. It occurred to him that he would soon be confessing to having feelings for Hermione Granger not only to his godfather and headmaster (which was embarrassing enough) but also to _every_ headmaster and headmistress that Hogwarts had ever had! _Oh SHIT!!_ He thought horrified, freezing momentarily on the threshold. _How could I have forgotten?!_ It was one thing admitting such a personal thing to two people who would certainly keep it a secret - at least he _hoped_ they would keep such a thing secret - but it was quite another admitting it to a bunch of deceased old farts that had nothing better to do these days but gossip with the subjects of other paintings. He wasn't ready for information like that to be spread around the school. He wasn't ready for everyone's reactions, especially Hermione's. He needed time to show Hermione that he was changing, to prove that he wasn't the arrogant, pureblood-supremacist she thought he was, before he could express the feelings he'd been hiding.

"Is there a problem, Mr Malfoy?" asked Dumbledore.

Draco gave himself a mental shake and suddenly realised that Snape had already seated himself in one of the two chairs at Dumbledore's desk and that he and the headmaster were staring at him expectantly. More nervously than before, Draco took a few steps further into the room then paused again.

"Er ..." he said, and then gave a nervous cough to clear his suddenly dry throat. "I ... I was just wondering, sir, if ... if they –" he waved his arm vaguely at the portraits surrounding them "– would be listening too ... um ... I mean, well ..."

"Let me reassure you, Mr Malfoy," Dumbledore interrupted, "that your secrets are safe in this room. No person in this office, alive or deceased, would dare discuss anything you have to say tonight."

"How can you be so sure?"

The headmaster smiled an indulgent sort of smile and cast his eyes around the room. "It is the duty of these portraits to serve the current headmaster or headmistress of Hogwarts, and to keep his or her secrets. They are bound by an enchantment which is as old as this very school." Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes found Draco's face again. "That is why I can be so sure of their discretion."

"Oh" said Draco meekly, flushing slightly and feeling quite stupid. He hurried forward and took his seat next to Snape.

"Well!" said Dumbledore exuberantly, continuing as if no trust issues had just been aired. "I am happy to see you looking so well recovered since I saw you last, Mr Malfoy. I take it you're feeling better?"

"Yeah, I guess" Draco answered awkwardly. "A little sore perhaps and Madam Pomfrey still refuses to remove the numerous bruises marring my body!"

"Oh" said Dumbledore, his smile widening "I'm sure she has her reasons."

Draco frowned slightly trying to work out why the school nurse would possibly want to keep him black and blue. Yet again his mind came up with nothing and he let the matter drop. He had more pressing matters to think about. At that moment Dumbledore slipped a hand into his robes and retrieved his wand which he flicked at the desktop where a tray and a set of tea things appeared.

"Would you care for some tea, Mr Malfoy?" asked Dumbledore courteously.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the teapot the headmaster was now pouring and then glanced at Snape who was doggedly avoiding his gaze. Draco turned back to Dumbledore who was waiting patiently for an answer, an expectant expression on his face.

"Sure, why not" he replied smoothly.

"One lump or two?" asked Dumbledore, smiling politely.

"Two" said Draco.

"Severus?" Dumbledore shifted his light blue gaze to the potions master.

"No sugar for me, thank you" replied Snape shortly, still staring at a point behind Dumbledore's right shoulder.

Draco took the proffered cup of tea and brought it to his lips, muttering a quick cooling charm under his breath he then downed the whole lot in one gulp. With a sound of satisfaction he returned the teacup to its saucer and set them both onto the tray once again. Dumbledore and Snape stared in astonishment at the teenager as he slouched in his chair, folding his arms defensively across his chest. In that moment he looked every bit the arrogant young aristocrat everyone believed him to be.

"Next time you want me to take Veritaserum just skip the tea and ask me!" said Draco bluntly.

As Draco was glaring angrily at the desktop he missed the look that passed between the two professors. He looked up however when he heard Dumbledore sigh.

"I must say I'm impressed, Mr Malfoy. Forgive us for the deception but we had to be sure of your honesty ... especially considering ..."

"My_ history_?" Draco sneered resentfully.

"You must understand, Draco, that your past actions have made this ... decision of yours, difficult to believe and even harder to understand. For the last six years I have watched you bully your fellow students based solely on the status of their blood, wealth or simply out of jealously for the fame they have acquired in the most unpleasant of circumstances. And do not for a moment think me ignorant of your behaviour towards some of your professors."

Draco squirmed uncomfortably in his chair as he was forced to relive his atrocious behaviour of the past few years. He felt the unpleasant stirrings of shame twist in his gut as he recalled most clearly some of the more hurtful things he had said and done to Hermione.

"In your fifth year I made you a prefect, in the hope that the new responsibility would help mature you. But instead of providing guidance and reassurance to the new students as you were supposed to, you chose to abuse your power using it to frighten first years and to harass your classmates." Dumbledore glanced at Snape for a few moments before continuing in a lighter tone. "However, I must admit that I noticed a drastic change in your behaviour last year; you seemed at last to take your prefect duties seriously, and if my sources are correct you seemed to have fewer run-ins with Mr Potter –"

_His sources?!_ Thought Draco incredulously. _Has he been spying on me? Surely he's got better things to do with his time than to keep tabs on a bunch of teenagers ... right?_

"– I put this down to the absence of your father, that perhaps the loss of his influence was having a positive effect on you –"

"Not an entirely unreasonable deduction" Draco interrupted, thinking aloud.

"Oh?" said Dumbledore curiously.

"I was angry when father was arrested, very angry, furious in fact. I blamed Potter and I had every intention on getting revenge when the new term started ... but then the summer came ... and I realised I was relieved that father wasn't around –" Draco recalled guiltily "– telling me what to do and what to think every minute of every day. I felt like I could breathe for the first time in my life. I could do what I wanted, go where I pleased, read what I wished and finally think for myself and make my own opinions. The day he lost his freedom was the day I gained mine."

It suddenly occurred to Draco that the Veritaserum must be taking effect; why else would he have admitted to the somewhat confused feelings he'd experienced last summer? He'd never taken the potion before and he hadn't really been prepared for its strength. Arrogantly he'd thought he would be able to resist its effects, and he was annoyed that this wasn't the case. Draco, who'd doggedly avoided eye contact during his admission, now lifted his gaze and found both Snape and Dumbledore staring at him, their expressions unreadable.

"Are you saying, Mr Malfoy, that your thoughts and opinions now differ from your father's?" asked Dumbledore, leaning forward slightly and resting his elbows on the desk.

Draco glanced at Snape, but the potions master's expression remained unchanged. "Yes" he replied softly.

"Would you care to elaborate?" prompted Dumbledore.

Another nervous glance at his godfather and this time Draco was rewarded with a small nod, which he took as encouragement to continue.

"Well ..." he began tremulously "I ... I disagree with my father's opinion that purebloods are superior to muggle-borns because, in my experience at least, I've found no evidence to support such claims. When I first started Hogwarts I thought being a pureblood meant I was better than everyone else and I imagined that muggle-borns were stupid, savage creatures undeserving of the magic running in their veins – like my father had taught me – but, of course they weren't ... they were just people like me; just as clever; just as capable; and, in some cases, even more powerful than myself. It made me angry at first and made me hate them even more because I didn't want to admit to myself that my father, the man I adored and idolised, could be wrong about anything – especially about something he was so passionate about. So I tried to do everything I could to prove I was better than everyone else; to prove that my father was right. I tried so hard to be like Father; tried to keep a hold of the hate and disgust he has for muggles and muggle-borns ..." nervously Draco raised his eyes to Dumbledore's wise blue gaze, "but ... I-I can't force myself to believe in a lie. I can't be the man my father wants me to be."

The headmaster nodded his head sagely. "Yet despite your true feelings, you kept up the pretence of the arrogant, bigoted aristocrat?"

"I was afraid ..." admitted Draco, "of what my friends would think of me; how they'd treat me, and I was terrified of what my father would do if he found out ... though I guess none of that matters now, I'm sure it wont be long before they all find out how I've 'betrayed' them."

"Ah yes, I think its time we hear your account of what happened that night, Draco," said Dumbledore, his intense gaze fixed on the teenager. "Start from the beginning, when your aunt and uncles came for you" he prompted.

_This is it_,the Slytherin thought to himself_ don't screw it up Draco!_ Yet again he looked to Snape for reassurance but this time there was only a strict warning in his Godfather's black eyes, reminding him not to reveal too much. So Draco told them everything that happened, right up until he made his escape into the forest, the Veritaserum aiding him to explain how he had felt at each point. It was a struggle but Draco managed to explain what happened in the forest without mentioning his confrontation and murder of the Death-Eater. He finished his account with himself collapsing in exhaustion and then being discovered by Snape, at which point his memory drew a blank. Whilst he'd been talking Draco had been vaguely aware of a slight pressure at his temples, but he'd been so focussed on his story that it wasn't until he'd finished speaking that he suddenly realised that Dumbledore was trying to read his mind. With this realisation came a sudden surge of gratitude for his Godfather and his occlumency lessons.

There was a long pause after Draco finished speaking, where Dumbledore continued to stare across the desk at the young Slytherin with his piercing blue eyes. After what felt like an age the headmaster looked away and Draco felt the pressure lift from his temples. Dumbledore leaned back into his chair and steepled his fingers again as his expression became pensive. Snape and Draco shared another glance as the silence stretched uncomfortably. Draco wasn't sure how many minutes passed until the headmaster finally looked at him again over his half-moon shaped glasses.

"I admit, you surprise me Mr Malfoy" began Dumbledore quietly "you showed a great deal of courage that night, more than I thought you possessed –" affronted Draco glowered at his headmaster "– there are few wizards who can pluck up the nerve to stand up to Voldemort –" unable to stop himself Draco flinched at the name, but Dumbledore seemed not to notice and continued "– and even fewer who have survived ..."

"I was lucky" Draco interrupted. "If that wall hadn't fallen when it did then I'd be –"

"Luck he calls it!" snorted Snape sardonically.

"Wait ... it was _you?!_ You made that wall collapse?!" said Draco incredulously.

"Well of course I did!" cried Snape exasperated. "You didn't really expect me to stand by and watch you be tortured to death!"

"Well actually –" began Draco hotly.

"Ahem!"

Both Draco and Snape, who looked quite angry, froze and turned back to the headmaster who had one silver eyebrow raised and was peering benignly at them both over his glasses. "Quite finished?" he asked calmly.

"Forgive me, headmaster."

"Sorry" muttered Draco meekly.

"As I was saying ..." said Dumbledore, pausing briefly to be sure he wouldn't be interrupted again "impressed though I may be of your actions that night, Draco, I can't help but wonder if perhaps ... you are still hiding something from me."

"Sir?" said Draco nervously, feeling his pulse suddenly accelerate.

"I understand your objections to joining Voldemort's ranks, Draco, but what I cannot understand is why a boy barely of age would willingly risk his life, and quite possibly the lives of his parents, for his recently altered opinions on Muggleborns. You are a Slytherin, and Slytherins generally make decisions that benefit themselves. Yet you were willing to die, why?"

"So what, it's okay when Potter stands up for his morals but when I do its cause to be suspicious?!" demanded Draco heatedly.

"Harry Potter is a completely different matter altogether, he has every reason to hate Voldemort and everything he stands for. You, however, were raised to believe differently. No-one could blame you if you had opted to save your own neck that night and taken the Dark Mark, certainly not if they found themselves in the same situation that you did.

So you see, I must ask myself, Mr Malfoy, why? Why didn't you take the easy option? What could possibly make you go against everything you were raised to believe in and risk a long and painful death for? Just what was it ... or perhaps, who was it ... you were willing to die for?"

_Damn!_ Thought Draco, _I should've known I couldn't avoid this._ He could feel Snape's dark eyes boring into the side of his head.

"Er ... well, um I-I" stammered Draco nervously, glancing down at his knees and feeling heat rise to his face.

"I take it they are of the female persuasion?" asked Dumbledore, and Draco was annoyed by the smile he heard in his voice.

"Uh ... yes" Draco sighed, as his insides burned with embarrassment.

"A-are you telling me," croaked Snape, his tone incredulous and scathing "that ... that you did all _this_ t-to to impress a _GIRL?!_"

"OF COURSE NOT!" shouted Draco indignantly, glaring daggers at his Godfather. "How thick do you think I am? And what good would it have done me if I'd died?!"

"Then why, Draco? Why would you risk being killed, because of some silly, teenage crush?!" demanded Snape.

"It isn't a – you have no id – because, because dying was better than becoming a MONSTER! If I had joined _Him_ she'd ... she would never – I would never have a chance with her!"

Something like understanding flickered behind Snape's black eyes before he broke his gaze with his Godson.

"I must say your devotion to this young lady is most admirable, Mr Malfoy" said Dumbledore serenely.

Draco closed his eyes for a moment a fought the urge to throw himself across the desk and strangle the old coot with his own beard.

"Not to sound nosey, Draco," said Dumbledore, pulling open a desk drawer and taking from it a bag of 'Bassett's sherbet lemons' (which from the packaging appeared to be some kind of sweet, which Draco had never heard of). "But I'm curious to know what kind of girl can penetrate that cool exterior of yours and inspire such feelings of passion? Is she a student of Hogwarts? Do Professor Snape and I know her?"

"Er, yes actually" said Draco awkwardly, watching Dumbledore as he struggled to open the bag of sherbet lemons.

"Well, who is she then?" asked Dumbledore, frowning slightly as the sweet packet continued to thwart his attempts to open it.

"Um ... it's ... Hermione Granger."

There was a great clattering as Dumbledore tore the bag of sweets in half, bouncing and skipping the sherbet lemons scattered across the desk and floor. Snape and Dumbledore were gaping open-mouthed at Draco, identical expressions of shock and disbelief etched in their faces. If his insides hadn't been squirming with embarrassment at that very moment, Draco might have found the scene before him extremely funny.

"I beg your pardon?" said Dumbledore uncertainly, his astonishment still vivid upon his heavily lined face.

"Merlin's beard it's not that difficult to understand!" Draco burst out impatiently. "The girl I like is Hermione Granger; you know bushy hair, fiery temper, hangs around with Potter and Weasley, smartest girl in the school, stands up for the rights of bloody house-elves – any of this ringing a bell?!"

"Preposterous!" barked Snape. "You hate the Granger girl! I've seen you go out of your way to insult and belittle her! And she stands for everything you b– I mean, used to believe in."

"What do you expect? I'm Lucius Malfoy's son; I'm supposed to believe in all this pureblood supremacy shit! It's not as if I could go waltzing up to her and ask her out and hope that my father and housemates would make an exception and be open-minded about it!"

"I don't believe it!" said Snape stubbornly.

"It's true and you know it! It was the thought of her that gave me the guts to refuse _His_ Mark and kept me running for my life after I escaped. I knew if I joined You-Know-Who, even if it was just to save my life, she would never be able to accept me. She's a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors - noble bloody idiots that they are - die for what they believe in. I would be nothing but a coward to her." Snape stared at Draco after he said this, his expression unreadable. Draco gazed back at his Godfather defiantly.

"Is Miss Granger aware of your feelings for her?" asked Dumbledore curiously.

"Yes certainly, we were planning on announcing the engagement at the start of term!" Draco sneered sarcastically. "Of course she doesn't you silly old codg–" he broke off abruptly as it suddenly occurred to him just who he was addressing. He glanced back at Dumbledore and noticed he no longer looked benign or amused. "Sorry, that was rude of me" he apologised quickly.

"Quite alright, Draco, we'll blame it on the Veritaserum, shall we?" he replied calmly. "I must say this has proven to a most fascinating evening." He took out his wand and waved it at his desk where a large crystal bowl appeared. "_Accio_ sherbet lemons" he said and all the yellow sweets went whizzing through the air and landed into the bowl.

"Would you care for one?" asked Dumbledore, as he himself plucked up a sweet, twisted open the wrapper and popped it into his mouth.

"No thank you" answered Draco, thinking this was an inappropriate time for sugary treats. "So ... what happens now?"

"Well that depends on you Draco," Said Dumbledore, leaning forward and folding his hands on his desktop. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to fight" said Draco, with more confidence than he actually felt. "I don't know how much use I'll be, but I want to join the Order. I want to help ... stop Him."

"Are you sure Draco? To join the Order is a very serious commitment, not a decision to be taken lightly. Are you sure you don't have an alternative reason for wanting to join?"

"You mean like trying to impress Granger?" asked Draco shrewdly. "No offence sir, but she doesn't really strike me as the sort of girl who can be won over by big empty gestures. But I would like a chance to make it up to her, to show her I can change. I do understand what I'm signing up for ... if you'll have me that is."

"That is a decision I cannot make alone, Mr Malfoy, the rest of the Order will have to be informed of your situation and will then take a vote on the matter."

Draco had been afraid of this but he supposed there was nothing he could do about it. At least Dumbledore hadn't given him an outright 'no!' he still had a chance.

"I believe that concludes our meeting tonight, Draco, I will schedule a meeting with the Order members in the next few days and contact you with their decision. Until then I want you to remain in the hospital wing under Madam Pomfrey's supervision."

"Yes sir" said Draco, suppressing a groan. _Why does he have to send me back to the hospital wing? What's wrong with the Slytherin dormitories?_ He got to his feet and Snape rose to follow him but Dumbledore stopped him.

"Actually Severus, I was hoping to have a word with you alone."

"Goodnight professor Dumbledore, goodnight professor Snape" said Draco politely, suppressing a smirk.

"Goodnight Draco" returned Dumbledore smiling.

Draco turned away and exited the office, letting his smirk curve his mouth at last. He was glad he could return to the hospital wing alone and avoid the interrogation he would likely receive off Snape, about what he'd revealed, for tonight at least. He made his way slowly through the corridors and staircases until he reached the third floor and the hospital wing. Feeling oddly drained he threw himself down onto his bed without changing his clothes.

"I'm never taking Veritaserum again!" he vowed quietly.

He closed his eyes as he reluctantly recalled the moment he admitted his feelings for Hermione Granger. Even the memory of it made him flush with embarrassment. _Fuck!_ He thought in frustration, _I got carried away I said too much! God-dammed truth serum!_ He had never intended to reveal how strong his feelings were for the Muggleborn witch. But Snape had made him so angry - he'd felt a powerful urge to prove he wasn't some stupid schoolboy, moping over a crush - and before he could stop himself Draco was spilling all his desperate hopes and desires. _I must have sounded like an idiot!_ Still there was nothing he could do to take it all back now. Draco could only hope that they kept their word and not reveal his secret. He rolled onto his side and pictured Granger's face in his mind; the way her eyes lit up when she was angry, the shape her mouth made when she was on the verge of hexing him. _Merlin I'm pathetic,_ he thought irritably as he slipped off to sleep, a faint smile on his lips.

**Author's notes:**

_Sorry its taken so long for me to upload but I've just found myself really busy lately and I haven't had much time to write. And for any Fans of my DarkSpawn series let me reassure you that I will be updating that soon and I'm not about to abandon it, just be patient and the story will continue to reveal itself. Well I hope you enjoyed this, I'd love to hear what you think of it._

_P.S. If you notice any mistakes I may have overlooked please let me know._


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